Almost A Dream Come True
by Jenny Clever
Summary: One day, during Sixth Year, Harry happens to appear in the middle of North America. There, he meets Summer, an unexpectedly familiar girl that comes to Hogwarts to shake things up between House rivals. UPDATED: Chapter 21.
1. Boo!

**A/N: At the time I began this story, some five years ago, it was my first try at HP fanfiction. Then I abandoned it, and have since returned to continue it. So here is the rewritten first chapter, hopefully it will flesh it out a bit. (First posted: 3/8/2003)**

**Disclaimer: I do not own Harry Potter. That honor is J.K. Rowling's alone.**

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter One - Boo**

_Alone at last. _Summer Granger settled down with a deliciously sweet and fizzy drink, a bag of chips, and her two very best friends: the couch and the movie _Harry Potter And The Sorcerer's Stone_. She popped the movie in and settled back into the over-stuffed couch she watched as the first scene appeared on the TV screen. A feeling of reassurance and content filled her and she idly hummed along with the musical score.

She opened her box of chips and bit enthusiastically into the first one, about to savor the taste of yummy salt-and-vinegar. Instead, Summer found herself choking on the horrible taste of barbeque. If there was one thing that Summer couldn't stand, besides snakes and spiders, it was anything that was flavored with the artificial taste of barbeque. Disgusted, she took the chips (_Crisps, in British_, she told herself, the accented dialogue still continuing behind her) and went back to the kitchen, letting the movie go on, since she had already memorized it ages ago. She went to the junk food cupboard and exchanged the barbeque for the Supreme Flavor Of All Time, Salt and Vinegar (_it simply HAD to be capitalized_).

Summer Granger's innate grace was lacking. Following in a long tradition of breaking plates, walking into walls, and tripping over perfectly even floors, Summer knocked over everything in her path. Half the things on the shelf fell over, and she broke a cookie jar before finally getting her chips. A small price to pay, in her opinion. Happily, Summer skipped back to the living room, chips in hand.

She froze in her tracks, stunned at the sudden appearance of another person in her otherwise empty house. It was a figure wearing black, or a black cape or cloak or something, but running shoes were visible beneath the hem of the dark material. The person was a few inches taller than her, and turned away from Summer. The only feature that Summer could make out was short, dark hair. Considering the height and hair, Summer assumed it was a guy. He remained totally unaware of Summer, preoccupied with something in front of him, until she suddenly started making incomprehensible sounds.

"Uh… nyargh?" She tried to say twenty things at once, and that was the brilliant result. The person's back tensed, but he didn't turn around yet. "WhatsgoingonwhoareyouWHYareyouherehowdidyougetinIbettercallsomeonewheresmyphoneorparentsorsisterwhoknowskungfuorsomethingbecauseyougotintomylockedhousesomaybeIshouldcallthepolice…" running out of breath, she stopped and breathed deeply, filling her lungs, mouth open and ready to continue.

"Don't scream!" The figure whirled around and was now holding his hands palm-out: the universal action for _stop_. Or, in this case, _stop rambling you psychotic teenaged girl_.

Her brain shut down, mainly because it couldn't process what her eyes were seeing. Somewhere though, a thought emerged, stuttering, even though a thought couldn't stutter. _It's H-Ha-Harry P-P-Potter!! _ Summer fought very hard against her urge to faint right then and there, convinced that she must be hallucinating.

Harry was studying the features of wherever he was, trying to find out exactly what planet that idiot Ron had sent him to, and how exactly he was going to fix the TV he broke when he arrived on top of it. His investigation was interrupted by the noises coming from the girl who had appeared from nowhere. The girl, who probably lived in this unfortunately occupied house, looked to be about his age and just as surprised as he was.

_Great... stuck somewhere I don't know where, already getting seen by somebody... added to that, me failing Snape's pop quiz on Burning Potions, this is really a BAD day for me, _Harry thought sullenly. He and Ron had been trying to finish their homework, but instead ended up practicing their Transportation Charms. Apparently, Ron wasn't very good, since he had been trying to send Harry to the other side of the common room, never mind all the anti-Apparition wards at Hogwarts. Magic had a way of going awry and breaking its own rules.

"Gee, thanks Ron. That was bloody brilliant of you," Harry said as he whipped out his wand to try to fix the situation.

**A/N: So there we have it. A bit brushed up, still not very long, but what can I do… it's hard to go back and rewrite the beginnings, at the risk of causing some disagreement with the more current chapters. Now on to Chapters 2 and 3…**


	2. Er

**A/N: Thanks to Summer for being my one and only reviewer. As a result, and following her request, Evelyn's name has been changed to Summer. Meh, I didn't really like Evelyn that much anyways. On the bright side, this story will finally get it's second chapter. Read on, brave soldier! ~MoI~**

**Dream Come True... Almost**

**Chapter Two ~ Er...**

Summer froze as she saw the wand pointed at her. _Oh no.... I hope he won't kill me... _Summer's brain wasn't working too well, as you can see. She held up her hands in a gesture of surrender. "Don't shoot," she said, more out of habit than reason. Summer noticed that Harry Potter still hadn't moved his wand. "Well at least you haven't killed me yet," she breathed, somewhat relieved.

"Er... right," Harry Potter replied uncertainly. From Summer's point of view, it was too unreal to be happening, so she kept on calling Harry Potter by his full name. He didn't seem to care, but that was probably because Summer was just thinking it in her head. The two of them just stood there, as though stuck in a stalemate. Finally, Summer lowered her hands and looked around at the mess. The chips had fallen all over the floor, the Pepsi had spilled on the table and the TV lay shattered... for some unknown reason.

"UH... maybe I'm not in the best position to ask this, seeing as you have a weapon, but why is my TV broken?" she asked, more than a little confused.

"Sorry about that... I sort of landed on it," Harry Potter said sheepishly.

_Geez, Summer, stop calling him Harry Potter! You're such a weirdo! _She looked at the wand still pointed at her. "Do you mind?" she asked. "I don't like feeling like I'm about to be shot at."

"Sorry," Harry Potter muttered and lowered his wand slowly.

Silence grew... _my my, isn't this awkward... Here you have Harry Potter, standing right in front of you... and you have nothing to talk about??? Are you INSANE?!?!?!?!?! _Summer angrily told the voice to shut up and searched her mind for anything to talk about.

"Oh yeah... good point," she said to herself. "I forgot to ask: what exactly are you doing here?" She suddenly realized that Harry Potter probably wouldn't know that he had a movie and books and stuff... so maybe Summer should act like she didn't know him. "And who are you?" she added belatedly.

"My name is Neville Longbottom," he replied.

"Liar," she said automatically. He'd used that as an alias before, and Summer couldn't stop her reaction. "Whoops... that wasn't smart."

Within half a second, Harry Potter was pointing his wand at her again, eyes narrowed and no doubt several spells at the ready. "What?"

Summer squirmed under his gaze... _what to do? What can I possibly do???? _The truth was certainly an option, but would he believe her? Maybe she could say she's psychic. Or pretend she's a witch... _except you aren't, and that would be a problem if Harry Potter ever asks you to prove it. _"My father is an ex-CIA agent who is a human-lie-detector and I've inherited his talents," Summer blurted out, borrowing from _Meet The Parents _but not really caring. Harry Potter remained silent so she continued uncertainly. "Yeah... so, I'm Summer... and you are in my house, which is locked..." she paused, suddenly noticing the spilled Salt and Vinegar chips. "And you made me drop my Pringles. Now that was just cruel." Those were _good_ chips and now they were ruined. _Thanks bunches, Harry Potter._

"I can explain everything," Harry Potter said. "I'll just... _fix _a few things, and you'll see it was just a bit of clumsiness on your part..."

_Hang on... _the wheels in her brain churned. This sounded a bit familiar. Like, Chamber of Secrets familiar. Summer figured it out, screamed, and ducked as Harry Potter sent a Memory Charm her way. She heard the chips crunch beneath her. _God, that'll be hell to clean up. _She pushed herself to her knees and couldn't help getting angry at him. "What the hell did you do that for? Goddamn Memory Charms would ruin all my hard studying! And I banged my head on the floor, AND now I have to clean up tiny little pieces of salt-and-vinegar goodness smushed into the carpet. Thank you very much!" she ranted. Again, she forgot that she was supposed to not know about wizards, since she was technically a Muggle.

"What?!" Harry Potter repeated, this time with more surprise, and some anger.

"Um... nothing.... I didn't say anything. Maybe you where hallucinating?" Summer tried as an excuse. Harry Potter didn't buy it. "Fine, geez, have it your way. Yeah, I know about Memory Charms, and that Neville isn't your name. Maybe if you tell me the truth, I'll tell you why I know," she said, hopping the bargain would be OK, since she needed him to talk first so she could make up a reason for knowing this stuff.

"I'm Harry Potter. My friend accidentally sent me here with a Transportation Charm that back-fired--"

"No duh." He stared at her... Summer sighed. "Yeah, fine, go on."

"And now I can't get back without fixing this mess, and wiping your Memory, unless you're a witch."

"Ah... now, that would be a teensy bit of a problem..."

"So you _aren't_ a witch! I knew it!" Harry Potter lifted his wand again.

_STOP calling him Harry Potter. _"Look, do you mind if I just call you Harry, because saying Harry Potter is just really annoying." That was kind of odd... she should've been asking him to spare her memory instead.

Harry stop in confusion. "Yeah, I suppose... You're very strange."

"That I am," she replied, thankful that she could finally stop saying Harry Potter in her head.

"Well then do you mind telling me how you know about magic if you're a Muggle?" he asked.

"Er... that would also be a teensy bit of a problem," Summer said, wondering how to explain this properly. "Let's just say that... I have researched the subject, and even though I am not a witch, I know about the magic world, and you, since you are kinda famous, right?"

"But how did you find out?" Harry said, finally putting his wand all the way down.

"I... The... my friend told me," she settled on that answer, since it was true. One of her friends _had_ told her to read the Harry Potter books. "She's a witch." She added that part so that it wouldn't seem so strange.

"Oh." 

Silence again.

"Maybe you could fix my TV?" Summer suggested. "It is your fault that it's broken."

"Sure," Harry said, muttering a spell and flicking his wand. The shards of glass and plastic and technical stuff flew back together to form the TV, now turned off, with the Harry Potter movie lying close to Harry's feet.

_Damn! Do something, Summer!!! _She panicked. Hesitantly, she crossed the room until she was only three feet from him. She tried to kick the movie under the sofa, but that only brought her uncomfortably close to him.

"What are you doing?" he hissed, the anger returning.

_Geez, these changing emotions are annoying. Angry... more angry... oh nevermind, they aren't changing. _She reached for another excuse. Seems they're quite popular. "I... just wanted to see your cloak," she said nonchalantly, poking at the crest. "Hogwarts, huh? Good school." She backed away quickly. From that close up you can really see his eyes... man, are they ever _ green_. Summer cleared her throat. _It would be really cool to go to Hogwarts... hmm, maybe I can go back with Harry... but how??? _She puzzled over this while Harry did another spell to fix the other general mess and the chips. A brilliant plan came to mind and Summer marveled at her genius. _I am SO smart... _"Hey, Harry, would you happen to know a Hermione Granger?"

**A/N: Yes, another super-short chapter. Very sorry, but I'll try to put one up again soon. BTW, Summer, I hope you like this cuz you're the only one forcing me to write this. Anywho, thanks to anyone who actually reads this, even though you non-existant people hate leaving reviews. :P !!!!!!!!!!!!!REVIEW!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ~m~**


	3. Good Ideas

**May 2007, A/N: I hate leaving things unfinished. So here we go. At least it will be done. M**

**Dream Come True… Almost**

**Chapter 3: Good Ideas**

Harry sat on her couch, arms crossed, brow furrowed, but thankfully not holding his wand anymore. He looked very skeptical.

"So you're saying Hermione is your second-cousin by marriage, and that she doesn't know you because you're ex-CIA agent father and his uncle had an argument so they don't speak to each other anymore, and the two halves of your family are alienated, so Hermione doesn't actually know that she has a cousin?" asked Harry, raising an eyebrow.

"Third cousin, actually, and my dad got into a fight with his great-uncle-in-law, but yea, that's basically it," Summer said, nonchalance oozing from her voice, as she kneeled on the carpet cleaning up the crumbs.

"Er… right." Harry's face was blank. The girl's explanation was so complex it reminded him of some of Oliver Wood's more ambitious Quidditch strategies. But, she seemed genuine, if only a bit bizarre. "And you said you need to go see Hermione because of your school project… to talk to a family member you've never met before?"

"That's right. So, Harry," she smiled brightly up at him. "Whaddya say? A little flick and swish, and presto! Hogwarts!" Summer flashed him another beaming smile. _If this works, I swear I will do all my homework everyday and never, never, never doubt the universal master plan ever again! _She had her fingers mentally crossed.

"Well… I suppose…" Harry began uncertainly.

"Yes?" She inched forward eagerly.

"It doesn't seem too…"

"Yes?" Summer scooted forward more.

"If I can manage to transport us both…"

"Yes?" Summer was so full of excitement, she hardly noticed that now she was at Harry's knees and eagerly tugging on the hem of his robes.

"Alright then, but could you let go of my robes?" asked Harry.

"YES!" Summer let out a triumphant yell, immediately dropping Harry's robes, doing a quick victory dance around the room, and then disappeared up a staircase.

Summer ran around her room, tossing a few essentials into a backpack. Before leaving, she scribbled a note to her parents (_Gone to study w/friends. I'll write later._) and dashed back down to the living room.

There stood Harry Potter, in Hogwarts robe and uniform, uncomfortably twirling his wand as he paced her living room. Summer felt another surge of excitement bubbling up inside of her and took a deep breath to calm down. She couldn't stop another smile from stealing across her face.

"Ready?" Harry asked, straightening his cloak.

"Definitely!" Summer replied enthusiastically, restraining herself from swooning at his accent. She had always loved people with foreign accents. _I hope I hang around long enough to have that accent rub off on me. Then I'd just talk all day, I would be so in love with the sound of my own voice! _She snapped out of her reverie as she was poked sharply in the ribs.

"So?" Harry was looking at her expectantly.

_Oops, I think I missed something… _"Erm, yes, that's a great idea," replied Summer, hoping she was convincing.

"Oh? It's a great idea that I'm worse at the Transportation spell than Ron?" Harry asked, amused.

Summer blushed. "Oh fine, ha ha, how funny," she huffed. "What do I have to do?"

"Er, alright, well, it's really only a spell to transport one object, but if it's us both then it'll be harder. I guess. I'm not sure. Hermione would know," he looked suddenly dejected.

Summer wrapped her arms around one of his tightly and stepped closer. "Don't worry. Wherever we end up can't be that bad, right?" Contrary to the effect she had been hoping for, images of dragon lairs, volcanos, pits full of snakes, and other unpleasant locales popped into her mind. Judging by the way Harry had paled, the same thoughts had just run through his mind.

"Right then," he muttered, tightening his grip on his wand. Summer squeezed her eyes shut as she heard Harry mutter an incantation. A moment later, her fingers dug into Harry's arm tightly: a great rushing noise filled her ears and she felt like she was being sucked down a drain, smaller and tighter and suddenly…

With a bang, Harry and Summer opened their eyes to see themselves surrounded by flames, the heat suffocating them and flames licking at their skin. Summer didn't even have time to yell before she was yanked out of the fire as Harry jumped out. They tripped over the grate, making a graceful entrance.

Sprawled on the floor, Summer gazed up at the Gryffindor common room. Two heads appeared above her, red and brunette, and stared down curiously. Beside her, Harry caught his breath. "Welcome to Hogwarts."


	4. Estranged Strangers

**Dream Come True… Almost**

**Chapter Four: Estranged Strangers**

Hermione had her arms crossed over her chest, looking cross and authoritarian. Harry looked nervous, like he had made a huge mistake. Ron was goading Summer into speaking more.

"And there's no flying in hotkey?" he asked eagerly.

"No there isn't. It's _hockey_, by the way," Summer replied.

"And you use sticks to throw a ball into nets?"

"Yes, sort of… well, it's a puck, not a ball. I can't believe you've never heard of hockey! It's a classic winter sport!" Summer commented. Ron beamed and opened his mouth to ask something else. "No, Ron, no more. Why are you asking anyways?" He had been questioning her thoroughly since she had first arrived some twenty minutes ago, and grinned every time she answered him.

"You just speak so weird!" exclaimed Ron. Summer repressed a grin: she had been thinking the same thing about their British accents. Although it was the same language, she was always surprised by the different pronunciations.

After this, the quartet fell into another uneasy silence.

Hermione had not let Harry or Summer speak since they had appeared in the fire. She had begun by lecturing Ron and Harry on practicing spells that were too dangerous without supervision. Then she had lectured Harry on bringing back a person with him, and the added dangers of that. And then she had lectured them on smearing soot and ashes all over the carpet. Hermione finished off by telling them to shut up and stop sniggering (Ron and Harry thought the whole situation was mildly amusing), and marched them all to Professor McGonagall's office. This is where they stood now, waiting for the professor to finish up an earlier meeting.

A third year boy slunk out of McGonagall's office, looking thoroughly humbled. The strict witch's voice followed him out, "And if I ever catch you again, Thornley, you can expect detentions until you graduate!"

A moment later she appeared, and surveyed the foursome in front of her. She did not even look surprised. "Come with me, please," she beckoned to Summer, "and the rest of you please wait here."

Summer entered the office uneasily. _This all seemed like a much better idea back at home. I never thought this through, did I? Hm. Oh well… what's the worst that could happen? _She sat opposite Professor McGonagall and stared blankly at her.

"Well?" the witch asked.

"What?" Summer replied, dumbly.

"I can't say anything, dear girl, seeing as I've never met you before! Who are you?" McGonagall prodded.

And so Summer launched into her story about Hermione being her third cousin and the school project, adding new details as they popped into her mind, fabricating such a web of lies that she didn't know if she would be able to keep it straight. _And if this doesn't work? _she wondered nervously. _Well then I'll pinch myself until I wake up. There's no way this could actually be happening to me._

But to Summer's great surprise, McGonagall had nodded calmly and asked few questions. At the end of it, McGonagall rose and walked to the door, finding Hermione, Ron and Harry trying to look like they weren't eavesdropping.

"Miss Granger, please follow me," she said, sweeping into the corridor and starting down the hall. Hermione fell into step behind her, signaling to the boys that she would fill them in later. Summer also followed McGonagall, suddenly realizing how lucky it was that her family name was also Granger… it made her excuse much more plausible.

They were soon stepping into the Headmaster's office. Dumbledore looked as serene and imperturbable as always, and invited them all to sit on the comfortable armchairs arrange before his desk. Professor McGonagall chose to stand while the two Grangers seated themselves.

"Miss Granger, please do tell me why you've come," Dumbledore requested. Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Dumbledore interrupted. "I beg your pardon, Miss _Summer_ Granger." Hermione shot a surprised look at Summer, and perched attentively on her chair.

Once again, Summer told her elaborate story about her ex-CIA father and her great-uncle-in-law, and how Hermione was her third cousin. Each time, she felt more guilty about the lies, and became increasingly aware of how unlikely it all seemed. Several times Hermione tried to speak up but McGonagall had shushed her. Now, McGonagall had place a thick leather-bound book on Dumbledore's desk, and Dumbledore was nodding.

"Yes, yes, thank you, Miss Granger," he muttered and began turning the pages of the book. Summer had caught a glimpse of the title on the spine, _Muggle Families and Their Most Magical Relatives!_ It appeared to be a genealogy of Muggle families, written by wizards. "Geller, Ghirtin, Gnackly, aha! Granger!" Dumbledore exclaimed triumphantly and turned the large book around to show the two girls, who leaned forward eagerly.

There, in neat black letters, lay a huge family tree, with hundreds of people's names and birthdates magically crammed onto the sheet. In the lower left corner was the name _Hermione Granger_. The Headmaster pointed to the lower right corner. _Summer Granger, estranged_. As they watched, the "estranged" shimmered and faded away.

"Just as I thought," Dumbledore said cheerfully. "Welcome to Hogwarts, Miss Granger."

Summer's mouth hung open and she turned slowly to stare at Hermione. _Third cousins? Seriously? _The lies, now truth, did not want to sink in.

"Now, as I understand, your school project was the reason for your arrival, however," said Dumbledore with a twinkle in his eyes, "I believe we can postpone it indefinitely." Summer could have sworn she saw the shadow of a wink.

"Surely she isn't staying, Albus?" McGonagall inquired.

"Naturally. Miss Granger, if you would indulge an old man's whims," said Dumbledore, holding his wand out to her.

"What? Oh!" She took the wand: her hand was trembling. _Really, it was never meant to get this far… What am I to do when they find out I was lying? That family tree must have been a fluke. _ Dumbledore smiled encouragingly and gestured to the wand. Hermione and Professor McGonagall were watching with interest. Summer, panicking, said the first spell that came in to her mind, one from the Harry Potter movie she was supposed to watch at home, in another time and place. "_Wingardium leviosa!_" she said, and with a swish and flick, the great genealogical book rose a few inches off the table, before shuddering and falling back down with a thunk.

The wand was dangling from Summer's limp fingers. Pale as a sheet, and trembling like a leaf, she sank backwards into her chair. Around her, the two teachers and Hermione burst into speech, debating and wondering about her future.

"It's remarkable, Albus, how could she live so long thinking to be a Muggle?" McGonagall speculated.

"How did she learn that spell?" Hermione wondered. "And why didn't I ever know? Professor, where did you get that book?" She inched forward, trying to take a closer look at the leather volume.

"More importantly, should she continue now as a witch?" McGonagall wrung her hands and stared intently at Dumbledore's desk, as though it had all the answers.

"Can she be… I mean, I know she's family, but do you think she can be trusted? In times like these?" worried Hermione.

"Well, we certainly should not jump to that conclusion," replied McGonagall. "But the problem still remains: what are we to do with Miss Granger? Summer?"

"It's strange, isn't it, that there's two Miss Granger's now?" Hermione commented. "I suppose you could just call us by our first names, but --" Hermione fell silent as Dumbledore softly cleared his throat.

"I think it is quite clear that Miss Summer Granger will have to stay at Hogwarts," the headmaster said. "In fact, I'd like her to enroll here. That is, if you'll agree, Miss Granger?"

They turned their attention back to Summer, slumped in her armchair, unconscious. In light of these strange surprises, she had fainted. But can you really blame her?


	5. Secrets and Wands

**Dream Come True… Almost**

**Chapter Five: Secrets and Wands**

The bright white sunlight permeated Summer's eyelids and forced her to wake up. She opened her eyes and found herself horizontal once more, staring up at a stone ceiling. Preferring to remain silent and unnoticed for a few moments, she let herself sink heavily into the pillows as the memories of last night filtered slowly back into her mind. A crash in her living room… landing in a fireplace… Dumbledore's office… the levitating book. And finally knowing that her surname was not just a coincidence. Summer Granger. Third cousin of Hermione Granger, brightest witch at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

She groaned. "How is this _possible_?" she whispered. Summer had half-hoped that it really was a dream, just because these things should not happen in real life. But taking a look around her, she saw white walls lined with cots in a room that was unmistakably the Hospital Wing of Hogwarts. She suspected that if she made much noise, Madam Pomfrey would appear, urging her to rest.

Completely unwilling to let that scenario unfold, Summer rose from the bed, finding her shoes underneath her, she grabbed them in her hand, and crept across to the door as silently as she could. Breathing a sigh of relief once she was in the corridor, she ran around a few corners, and paused briefly to put on her sneakers. It was early morning, and she guessed most students were either still sleeping, or down in the Great Hall for breakfast. At the thought of food, her stomach grumbled loudly. Summer was unwilling to mingle with the other students too quickly, but the urge to eat was stronger.

By the time she found her way to the Great Hall, there was much more activity around the castle. Summer had seen a few students, but ducked her head and walked quickly past them, trying to blend in. Now she stood at the entrance to the Great Hall, thoroughly intimidated by the four House tables in front of her. Where was her place in all of this? And to add to the nervousness and embarrassment, several students were already pointing at her and whispering.

"There you are, Summer!"

Turning at the sound of her name, she saw Hermione coming up to her and taking her by the arm, steering her towards the Gryffindor table. "I'm so glad you could transfer to Hogwarts," she continued, perhaps a bit too loudly. "It's always nice to have family around…" Hermione trailed off as they finally seated themselves at the table, across from Harry and Ron.

"Good morning?" Summer said uncertainly.

"Don't bother with them, they need to study for their Potions quiz today," said Hermione, staring meaningfully at Harry and Ron, who grudgingly pulled out notes. "Alright, Professor McGonagall has allowed me the day off to help you on your feet. After breakfast we'll go back to our dorm – you'll be in Gryffindor, of course – and get you into uniform. And I have your schedule here, so we can take a walk and I'll show you where everything is, especially the library, you'll need that! I can't imagine starting magic at sixteen… there's so much to learn!"

Summer blinked. "Schedule? Seriously? You mean I'm staying here?"

Hermione squirmed uncomfortably. "Er… yes."

"Hmm," she picked at her food, idly trying a mouthful of pumpkin juice. It was sweeter than she had imagined. "It's kind of weird, isn't it? I hadn't ever expected to actually find my cousin…" she trailed off. _Or to actually have a cousin… or to enroll at Hogwarts!_

"Come on," Hermione said resolutely, dragging Summer out of her thoughts and away from her breakfast. Summer noticed they were heading to the tower housing the Gryffindor common room, where she would most certainly have to get dressed up in the uniform she had so often seen on screen.

"Oh! Oh, no no, I can't, really Hermione, it's just--" Summer was stammering and trying in vain to release her arm from Hermione's firm grasp. She was so focused, in fact, that as they climbed the staircase away from the Entrance Hall, she missed a step and came crashing down.

A hand caught her mid-shriek, and righted her. As he heart beat settled back into a normal pace, Summer glanced up at her saviour. Ron smiled at her. "If you think normal stairs are bad, wait until they start moving!" He grinned and chuckled. He and Harry had followed them out from breakfast, and now Ron moved over to Hermione, asking questions about one of their latest assignments.

Summer trudged wearily up the steps with Harry. "Summer, I, er, wanted to apologize," he began awkwardly, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "You see, I didn't really believe you when you told me you were Hermione's cousin… but now, I know, and," he sighed. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be silly, Harry, it's fine."

"No, it's not! I know what it's like not to be believed!" He stopped her and grabbed her arm, staring at her fiercely. "I know what it's like when everyone thinks you're telling lies! So you need to know that I believe you, and I'm sorry for not trusting you before."

"Really, Harry, I hardly expect you to believe my lies anyways, I mean they're not … really… convincing…" Summer trailed off, eyes wide. _How am I so dumb? How is this possible that a single person can be so dumb? WHY THE HELL DID I JUST TELL HARRY FREAKIN' POTTER THAT I WAS LYING??_ She blushed, lowered her gaze, and intended to continue through the hallway, getting away from Harry as fast as possible. Only, they had stopped at a junction, Ron and Hermione were out of sight, and she had no idea where she was going. Resolutely, she picked the corridor on the left and followed it briskly.

It took only two seconds for Harry to catch up to her and block her way. "What did you just say?"

"Hmm? Oh, nothing, nothing. Anyways, I really have to go, Hermione must be worried sick," tried Summer, seeing that it wasn't working.

"Really? Hermione is waiting for you in the dungeons, is she?" Harry gestured to the hall. Now that she thought about it, Summer could see that it was less cared for than the other hallways, and had a definite downward slope to it. Her mouth formed a small 'o' and her shoulders slumped.

"So what now?" she asked, dejectedly.

"You're going to explain exactly what you mean," said Harry. The crossed arms and the glare were a far cry from the boy who had stumbled into her living room. He was intimidating now, and it didn't help that he was a few inches taller than her as well.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. "No, I'm not!" Summer exclaimed, triumphant. "You have to get to class. Don't be late!" She smirked, and whirled on her heel, marching back in what she thought was the right direction. To her surprise, Harry joined her again.

"Fine. But you have class too. Hermione will kill us if we're late." Summer relaxed and felt victorious. Harry continued, "and we'll talk later." She sighed dejectedly, and let him lead the way to Gryffindor's tower.

A week had gone by. Summer still tugged in annoyance at her tie, and had gotten over the novelty of wearing robes. Although magic took her by surprise a few times a day (she walked through Nearly Headless Nick once), she was bored. In her classes, identical to Ron and Harry's and all other sixth year Gryffindor's, she took notes diligently and did not much else. There was still the problem of getting a wand, and she spent most of her spare time and energy trying to avoid Harry.

Now, she sat in the common room, awkwardly alone on a couch, staring blankly into the fire. A heap of books surrounded her and a piece of parchment full of scratchy, blotted writing was discarded. She had found a deck of playing cards and was shuffling them idly.

Ron plopped down into an armchair, heaving a sigh of relief. "I'm done my Charms essay!" he announced.

Summer raised an eyebrow. "The one due next week? Since when are you so eager to learn?"

Ron blushed, his skin tone clashing with his hair. "Alright, so I've just got some books. And Hermione's looking them over, so she'll help. Anyway, what's that?" he asked, pointing to the cards.

"Playing cards?"

"Oh." He blushed again. "Well, you are a muggle… so I thought it'd be something muggle-ish."

"She's not a muggle, she's a witch," Hermione pointed out, joining them. "Oh, and Ron, Professor Flitwick asked for an essay on Anti-Leaking Charms, not Anti-Speaking Charms." Hermione turned back to Summer. "How're you doing?"

Since she had found out that they were family, Hermione had felt the need to hover over Summer, constantly pestering and worrying and making sure that everything was alright. Sometimes it was appreciated, sometimes it was just annoying. Tonight, it was annoying.

"It sucks not being able to do magic," she pouted. She took out her frustration on the cards and shuffled more forcefully.

"Don't worry," Hermione said sympathetically, patting her on the shoulder. "I'm sure any day now Professor McGonagall will find one for you."

No sooner had the words left Hermione's mouth than a first-year student came up to them and handed Summer an envelope, staring at her with wide eyes. She took it from him, and Ron told him to scram, looking smug as the firelight glinted off his prefect's badge. Summer opened the envelope.

"It's from McGonagall," she announced, and then quickly skimmed the letter. "She wants me to meet her in her office." She stood up to go.

"Will you find it alright?" Ron asked.

"Yea, I think I'm getting the hang of it," she replied, and left the common room, putting the deck of cards in her pocket.

When she knocked on the door of her Head of House's office, she entered and found Professor McGonagall standing by the fireplace. "Er, you asked to see me?"

"Yes. Some of the staff have commented to me that you are not performing well. Obviously, having just entered into the world of magic, I can see why that is so. Also, you haven't got a wand, which severely hinders your learning. So, please step into the fire, and follow me."

As much fun as traveling by Floo may have seemed, when faced with actually doing it, Summer hesitated. Her hand shook as she took some shimmering powder from the bowl the professor offered her and she took a tiny step closer to the mantle. Her last experience with fireplaces was not good, and she recalled her ungraceful landing with Harry.

"Perhaps, I shall go first," McGonagall suggested kindly. She stepped briskly into the fire, then, smiling as if to reassure Summer, she said, "Ollivander's, Diagon Alley!" And whirled away in the green flames.

Summer gasped. "Ok, no problem. Real simple. Just a quick step and a shout, and I'm there." She encouraged herself and stepped steadily closer until the flames threatened to catch the hem of her robes. Screwing up her eyes tightly, she jumped into the fire, shouted her destination, and flung the powder into the flames. Instantly, she felt like a tornado had swallowed her up. She didn't dare open her eyes, but felt a wind whipping around her and ashes getting all over her. A hand suddenly pulled her out, and she stumbled, shaking soot off of herself and looking around.

Professor McGonagall was standing in a shop that was narrow and tall. Shelves lined the walls entirely and a man with white hair and a shrewd gaze observed her.

"Hmm," he said. "You're not exactly young, are you?" Summer frowned, but stopped herself from retorting as a tape measure flew around her, providing measurements to Ollivander. The man was muttering to himself. "Yes, yes, very good. Interesting, that's peculiar. No, maple wood will do no good." Finally, he set out a handful of boxes gathered from the shelves.

"Here, my dear, this one, I think would be most promising," said the wand-maker, showing her a wand.

Summer picked up the wand, feeling the dark polished wood warm in her hand. She gave an experimental flick: several boxes flew off the shelves and spun in a wild dance as streamers and sparks flittered among them. Summer grinned. _Magic is going to be fun!_

When they returned to Professor McGonagall's office, Summer was the proud owner of a new, ebony wand, 13 inches, with a siren-hair core. Clutching her purchase and feeling powerful, Summer prepared to leave.

"No, not quite so soon, Miss Granger," Professor McGonagall said, stopping Summer in her tracks. "The wand will certainly help you learn and perform magic, but you must still catch up on the past few years. I will arrange for you to have a tutor. Meeting three times a week should have you caught up with everything. I will prepare a curriculum: strictly the basics. I expect that you'll fill in the blanks by yourself."

Under McGonagall's strict stare, Summer could only agree dejectedly before wishing the professor a good night, and going back to the common room.


	6. Potions and Predicaments

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Six: Potions and Predicaments**

The wind howled fiercely, unceasingly, whipping through the thick stone walls of the castle, and causing black robes to go flying. Summer was stumbling, half-awake, lost, and worst of all, late for class. Specifically, Potions. Sprinting across the courtyard, bag thumping on her hip, she ducked into a corridor, turned left, then right, then left again, retraced her steps, found that the second left should have been a right, and finally entered the downward sloping corridor that led to the dungeons. Feeling victorious and a little out of breath, Summer yanked open the door and strode triumphantly into the classroom…

… only to find herself in a supply closet. Cursing under her breath, she turned to face the door on the opposite side of the hallway. Opening this door more timidly, ascertaining that it was the right class, she stepped in and quietly shut the door. Tiptoeing to a bench in the last row where Dean, Neville and Seamus were sitting, Summer had almost sunk onto the stool when a voice made her jump.

"Late again, Miss Granger. Five points from Gryffindor," said Professor Snape from where he was writing out ingredients on the board. Her housemates turned to glare at her.

"Sorry, Professor," she replied meekly. Only Hermione seemed to be sympathetic: every other Gryffindor was not pleased, as Summer had been constantly losing points for their house. Nonetheless, Neville agreed to let her copy his notes so far. Luckily she had ordered and received all the school supplies she needed, because at this point everyone's patience was wearing thin. Two and a half weeks after arrival, Summer was still desperately behind in everything and not much of a social butterfly. The majority of her nights were spent reading Hermione's old textbooks until the early hours of the morning. Despite McGonagall's promise of tutoring, she had yet to receive any word on when, where, or with whom.

"Four pickled cat flies… whatever that is," Summer murmured, dropping them in and swirling the contents of her cauldron. The potion turned a dark red. "Uh-oh," she whispered. It was supposed to be vibrant green. Frowning, she double-checked the instructions and realized that it hadn't been cat flies, but bat eyes. Shrugging, and still hoping for the best, she proceeded to the next step. Eleven drops of worms blood. _I didn't think worms had blood,_ she thought, while counting off the drops. "Nine…" the potion fizzled green momentarily, "ten," now great bubbles had formed on the surface, and the color went from green to bright yellow. Biting her lip nervously, Summer added the last drop. "Eleven."

With a bang, the contents exploded and a thick yellow fog filled the air. The three Gryffindor boys at her bench had managed to jump away from the worst of it, but Summer, not knowing any better, stood shocked before her cauldron, spitting out potion that had gotten in her mouth. Wiping her face on her sleeve, she made a face.

"Granger! Incapable of correctly brewing a simple Brew of Bafflement." Snape was striding over with an expression of fierce dislike on his face. "Well?"

"Yuck," Summer replied, spitting out the last of the potion. This earned a few sniggers from the Slytherin side of the class. Predictably, Snape took more points from Gryffindor. Summer didn't even have a chance to feel guilty: she could feel the potion sizzling on her skin, and what little she had swallowed made her stomach feel like it was oozing.

Dismayed at another failed potion, but determined not to be a total wreck, she gripped her wand. "Sorry, professor," she slurred, "I'll clean it." She weakly waved her wand, but instead of the mess going away, it grew darker. Puzzled, but willing to try again, Summer waved her wand once more. The darkness intensified, and as her vision blacked out, she fell to the ground in an unconscious messy, and strangely formless heap.

With a low growl of frustration, Snape turned to Neville. "Longbottom, what did she put in this?" he demanded, pointing to the remnants of the potion.

"Cat flies, sir. And bettle juice instead of nettle essence."

"Incompetent," he muttered under his breath. "Clean this mess up," he ordered as he swept out of the classroom. Shaking, Neville did as he asked, careful to scourgify all of the potion in order to avoid losing more house points. Moments later Professor Snape returned with a small bottle of black thick potion in hand.

"Granger!" Snape snapped, and shook Summer's unconscious form. "Granger!"

Blearily, Summer opened her eyes and struggled to get up, but found her limbs completely unresponsive. In fact, she could hardly feel any fingers or toes. Her eyes were blood-shot and her skin was vaguely the same orange-yellow hue as her potion.

"Here." And Snape forced three drops of the black potion down her throat.

Coughing at the vile taste, but almost instantly returning to normal color and feeling, Summer sat up. "Thanks, Professor," she said humbly.

"Do not thank me yet, Miss Granger. Wait in my office," he answered. His tone of voice did not sound comforting. Summer gathered her books and quietly left the room, only flicked her gaze upward once to the bench where her cousin sat. The look on Hermione's face made Summer think that even her unfailing patience had worn out.

Half an hour later, Snape joined her in his dark office. The jars lining the walls were forboding, the books were black and grim, and the one visitor's chair looked stiff and uncomfortable. Summer remained standing.

Circling the room slowly, prowling almost, Snape began talking in a low voice. "Difficult as it may be to have only just discovered the world of magic, I expect a certain degree of obedience in my classroom. Potions, especially, is a delicate subject whose instructions must be followed to the letter. From what I can tell, you are not completely inept…"

"Professor?" Summer asked in confusion. Where was the lecture she was supposed to be getting? The detention? The points lost?

He stopped pacing and stood across from her, leaning forward on his desk. "Miss Granger, despite my deep desire to further decrease the now dismal amount of points of Gryffindor, I find myself incapable of doing so as you have just brewed an exceptional example of Sigfreid's Stew: a potion designed to incapacitate by rendering all bones the same consistency as mud."

Summer gave him a blank stare.

"In other words, a potion beyond N.E.W.T. standards, certainly unexpected from a new witch," he finished. He seemed at once extremely displeased and approving. Perhaps it was the inherent Slytherin dislike of all Gryffindor students.

"Sorry, what?"

Grudgingly, Snape replied, "Good work, Granger."

"Oh." Now, thoroughly confused and shocked, Summer couldn't help falling into the chair, stiff as it may be. Getting her head wrapped around the idea of magic was much harder than she had thought. Now, more than ever, she longed for her tutoring to begin.

"I will suggest that you review the instructions more carefully in the future, so as to brew the required potion," Snape added coldly. "Perhaps next time I will not be so willing to resuscitate you."

Seeing this as a cue to depart, Summer rose, slinging her bag over her shoulder. "Yes, sir. Thank you, sir." In a hurry to depart the cold office, she strode to the door.

"Oh, and Granger…"

She paused and glanced over her shoulder.

"Should you ever need assistance…" he left the sentence hanging uncomfortably.

With a small noise of acquiescence, Summer hurried from the office, thoroughly bewildered.

* * *

"And then he offered to help?" Ron asked, incredulously.

"Yes," Summer replied, distractedly. She was presently absorbed in _Standard Book of Spells, Grade Two._ During dinner, McGonagall had sent her a notice saying that her tutoring would begin this evening at 8 o'clock. Summer was reviewing as much as possible, in order to look like less of an idiot. Ron and Hermione were keeping her company, or distracting her, in Ron's case, by asking her repetitive questions about the encounter with Snape that morning.

"Wow," Ron said, leaning back in his chair. A look of bewilderment was in his eyes as he flicked his wand callously. He was supposed to be practicing the Aguamenti charm, but in his distraction only a few drops of water spurted from the wand tip.

"Professors are here to help," Hermione said matter-of-factly, swishing her wand and perfectly filling a goblet with crystalline water. "In fact, I wouldn't be surprised if your tutor was a teacher. Hmm… maybe it's Professor Sinistra, she's very efficient."

"Er… thanks Hermione." Summer was not heartened by the thought of having an "efficient" teacher. It certainly did not sound stimulating.

Despite living in Gryffindor Tower, Summer had managed to avoid another confrontation with Harry by studying in the library. At the moment she was in the common room only because he was not, and also because she had an excuse ready at hand. If he walked in, intent again on discussing her "lies", she could simply say she had tutoring and disappear. Fortunately, by the time it was quarter to eight, Harry hadn't yet returned. Breathing a sigh of relief and grabbing her bag, Summer left the common room with Ron and Hermione's encouraging comments at her back.

"Don't blow anything else up!" That was Hermione.

"But if you do, tell me about it later!" And that was Ron.

After only two wrong turns, Summer located the empty classroom that had been assigned to her. It was 7:59 and her tutor was already there, looking over a roll of parchment that appeared to be the curriculum. Summer's heart sank and her stomach filled with lead.

"Ready?" asked Harry.

"For six hours a week spent solely with you learning stuff that everyone else my age has mastered years ago? Oh yeah. Ready. I'm sure we'll have a blast," she replied sarcastically, loudly dropping her bag on a desk.

"I didn't volunteer for this, alright?"

"Sure you didn't. And the fact that you now have basically all the time in the world to interrogate me is just a nice little benefit, isn't it?"

"I didn't think of that, but thanks for suggesting it."

Summer's heart was now somewhere in the vicinity of her ankles. Her mind, at the same time, was berating her for jumping to conclusions and being an obtusely large idiot. Deflated and despairing, she leaned against a desk and waited for the barrage of questions. When none were forthcoming, she raised her eyes from the floor to see Harry once more absorbed in the curriculum.

"Well?"

"Well what?" he replied.

Summer shuffled uncomfortably under his intense gaze. Guilt was making her feel raw and dishonest. She was starting to think that maybe telling the truth would make her feel better. Reluctantly, she began to explain how she had lied her way into Hogwarts and how, to her surprise, Dumbledore had informed her that her story was true. She ended by trying to justify that since it ended up being true, it wasn't really lying to begin with. Harry didn't take that very well.

"But you lied."

"Yes, but it was true," she insisted stubbornly.

"Regardless, you lied and took advantage of the situation." She could tell by the look in his eyes that he was also a bit shaken to discover that she had managed to take advantage of him, too.

"But in the end…"

"In the end, it's still false. If the beginning is a lie, so is everything that follows."

"The end justifies the means. Never heard of that? What does it matter how I got here if the point is that I'm here?" Harry shook his head and began pacing angrily. Summer continued. "And do you expect me to believe that you've never lied? You've never taken advantage of a situation? Mr. Boy-Who-Lived, always right, always honest, always unbearably perfect?"

His glare made her stop, breath catching suddenly in her throat. Awareness seeped in: Harry had a firm grip on his wand, and many years of magical training behind him. She backed up further, eager to put more distance. The momentary pause let her calm down enough to feel fear.

"If you claim to know me, as so many people do, you ought to know what I've been through these past years. I don't take well to people who lie." There was a hint of a threat in his voice.

"Don't you think maybe you're overreacting just a little bit?" Summer ventured. It was the wrong thing to say.

"Have you no idea of what's going on?! Voldemort is out there, wreaking havoc, and you just waltz in here. How do I know you aren't in with him? That this isn't a part of some clever Death Eater plot? Or that you're in with Malfoy, or Snape? I heard about what happened after Potions… Snape offering you help. What was that, some sort of Death Eater code?"

Summer's jaw fell open and it took great effort for her to close it. "Whoa. Seriously?" Harry raised his wand. "Oh… okay," she said nervously. Summer pushed up her sleeves and held out her forearms. "No marks, see? All clean. Not. A. Death. Eater." She spoke slowly, as though to a child.

Although he still looked wound up and suspicious, Harry did lower his wand. "Maybe you just haven't been branded yet," he said coolly.

"What am I, a cow?" she snorted. "I wouldn't let anyone 'brand' me, as you put it." She flicked her sleeves back down, trying to look casual. "Besides, you can confirm it with the Headmaster if you want. I come from a Muggle family. That alone disqualifies me from friendship with Malfoy and cooperation with Voldemort."

By this point, it seemed that Harry had finally accepted her words as truth. "It's still unlikely, though…"

Summer shrugged. "Professor Trelawny seems to be the only one not complaining about my work in class. Maybe I'm psychic."

Harry huffed. "Fine." Turning back to the parchment, he began. "We'll start with First Year Charms."

As Harry settled in to a brief lecture and demonstration, Summer breathed a sigh of relief. _Maybe_, she thought, _this isn't going to be as easy as it seems._


	7. Further Education and Frustration

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Seven: Further Education and Frustration**

After a month at Hogwarts, things seemed to have settled down. Students had stopped being outright rude to Summer. The other Gryffindor's had slowly let her into their circle. Hermione had fallen into a regular habit of doing her homework alongside Summer, to guide her along. Ron had, fortunately, stopped asking ridiculous questions about the Muggle world. And, thanks to her thrice-weekly tutoring, Summer had stopped making very obvious mistakes in her classes.

However, the tutoring was still tense. Harry had not completely begun to trust Summer. Furthermore, she had stayed behind in Potions several times to ask questions of Snape: this made it doubly difficult for Harry to overcome his suspicions.

On a Friday afternoon in early October, Harry asked Summer to meet earlier than usual for the tutoring session. Intrigued, but willing, Summer agreed and then proceeded to try to get Ron to find out if it was because Harry had a date. Outside of tutoring, Summer had been using Hermione and Ron as a roundabout way of talking to Harry. By now, Ron, fed up, snapped back that if she really wanted to know, why didn't she just ask him as he was sitting at the same table?

With a _hmpf_ and a frown, Summer sat back and crossed her arms.

Harry actually chuckled and got to his feet. "No, I don't. But we need to go outside while it's still light out." He beckoned for her to hurry up. "Oh, just take your cloak, not your books. It might get cold."

Mystified, Summer followed him outside onto to the lawn, still lit by the feeble sunlight. It was quite chilly already, and Summer regretted not bringing a warmer cloak.

"So what are we learning today, Professor Potter? Gardening?"

He smirked. "Not quite."

This unnerved Summer. Her uneasiness increased as she saw that they were headed for the Quidditch pitch. Anxiety took hold and her steps slowed down. Harry urged her forward and onto the field. There, two brooms waited for them, Harry's own and a school broom. It was a rickety old broom, probably older than Summer herself. Possibly it could support an eleven year old, but Summer was skeptical about it's ability to support a sixteen year old who felt like she had lead in her shoes.

As Harry calmly explained the basics of flying, Summer sincerely questioned, for what had to be the millionth time, her judgment in coming to Hogwarts. In fact, she had to question her parents judgment for allowing her to stay at Hogwarts.

Weeks ago, when Dumbledore had first asked her to stay, he had owled her parents to let them know. Surprisingly, Summer had gotten a response saying that her parents already knew about magic, having received a letter of Summer's acceptance to one of the local magic schools. Being Muggles, they had difficulty believing it was more than just a practical joke, yet in the end found that magic explained a lot about their child. In fact, it also explained the behaviour of one distant relative, an aunt named Rhododendron Florafel, who had been perceived as insane back in the sixties. With that previous knowledge, her parents had allowed Summer to stay on at Hogwarts, and only wished that she wouldn't do too much damage to herself.

Summer, on the other hand, strongly suspected that Dumbledore played a role in making her parents so accepting of the situation. Nevertheless, here she was, on a Quidditch pitch, being taught how to fly by Harry Potter. And at the moment, he was holding a broom out to her, asking her to try.

"Just get on it like this… no, put your knees higher. Yes, that's right. Holding on tight? Right… now, kick off," and with that, Harry whooshed up into the air to demonstrate.

Summer, whose knees were shaking, despite her best attempts to remain calm, was not quite so eager to follow him. Noticing this, Harry came back down and hovered at her shoulder.

"It's what you wanted, isn't it?" he asked, a bit cruelly.

"Yes," Summer replied, if a bit grudgingly. She was slightly more determined now.

"Good." Harry tapped her broom with his wand, and as he rose higher into the air, Summer found her own broom to be lifted up too. What had been a breeze on the ground now turned into a veritable wind. As Harry led her in a loop around the pitch, Summer started to think it wasn't that bad. When Harry asked her to do some flying on her own while he watched, she gladly took a few more laps around the pitch. Feeling adventurous, she climbed higher in the air, then dipped low, making a sharp turn and zooming down the pitch. The school broom wasn't very quick or graceful, but to her beginner's eye, it was perfect. The late afternoon sun kept her from getting too cold as she dipped and twirled. She attempted to do a loop, and found that being upside-down was not completely terrifying.

Righting herself, she flew straight from one end of the field to the other. Harry yelled something at her, but with the wind whistling in her ears, Summer couldn't hear. She turned her head to see what he wanted and found him frantically gesturing to slow down. Turning back to face forward, the goal-hoops sped up to meet her too closely. Summer swerved, shrieking, to avoid a collision with the metal poles and lost control of her broom. In one of those rare moments of blind panic that sometimes seize you when you're flying a broom too quickly for the first time, Summer felt that the best thing to do in this situation would be to let go.

Obviously, when you are flying a broom too quickly for the first time, this is not the ideal solution.

No sooner had Summer realized the stupidity of her actions than Harry had swooped down in an attempt to catch her. For a brief, glorious moment, they managed to catch hands. But the suddenness of the motion made their grips slip, and once again, Summer was falling through the air. Her shriek was only cut off as she hit the ground with a thump. Luckily, the area under the hoops was sandy and her only injury was having the air knocked out of her.

"This really isn't fun any more," she grumbled, staring up at the darkening sky. A soft _swoosh_ to her right let her know that Harry had landed. Before he had a chance to come much closer, Summer attempted to salvage her wounded pride by pushing herself up on her elbows.

Harry offered her a hand up.

"I'm fine," Summer snapped, trying to cover a groan as she got to her feet. She was shaking the sand out of her hair and robes when snickering at the corner of the field drew their attention. A band of Slytherin students stood watching. They made their way onto the field, following one blonde boy.

"What's this, Potter?" smirked Malfoy. "Saving another damsel in distress?" The rest of them sniggered as Harry took a step forward. A dangerous look was in his eye, but Malfoy seemed too cocky to care.

"I don't need saving," Summer said haughtily, cutting off Harry's reply. She picked up the school broom from where it had fallen, and started to make her way off the field. If anything else went wrong today, Summer would have nothing but crumbs left of her dignity. Malfoy's shout made Summer pause.

"You might want to rethink that," he said snidely. "Professor Snape wants to see you." The look of panic that crossed Summer's face must have been visible even at a distance because Malfoy smirked. "Perhaps you should take Potter the Hero with you, maybe he can protect you." The Slytherins broke out into laughter again.

Ignoring them, Summer turned from the field, haphazardly tossing the broom in the vague direction of a broomshed. She was halfway back to the castle before she realized that Harry was a pace or two behind her.

"I feel like my forehead has a Sticking Charm on it," she mumbled, in reference to her near-constant frowning.

"Sorry, what?"

"Oh, nothing!" she huffed. For a few more steps, Summer fumed silently. "No! Not nothing! This is ridiculous!" She stopped abruptly, causing Harry to nearly crash into her. "This is hard, this is confusing, and this is not fun! I'm getting beaten by a broom, taunted by those idiots, and getting in trouble with a teacher! It's so frustrating; I want to rip my hair out!" She yelled and screamed, stomping about furiously. Harry merely stood there looking a bit scared but also amused. "What?!"

"Oh, nothing," he said, mimicking her response. "It's not easy. It is frustrating. It's confusing, and it's a lot of work."

Eyeing him suspiciously, Summer demanded, "Why are you agreeing with me?"

"Because when I started at Hogwarts, I was the same way." He crossed his arms.

"But you aren't starting magic at the age of sixteen. You aren't at the back of your class."

"No, not anymore," he replied evenly. "Now, I have Death Eaters to worry about, and a dark wizard who wants me dead. Much easier than flying and First Year Charms, don't you think?" No response. "If you're hoping it will get easier, you might as well leave now."

Summer sighed, and with a final glance at Harry, resumed her march towards the castle, lost in her thoughts. _It's a matter of time, _she thought, _and maybe also a matter of making friends with the right people. Hmm… I wonder how much I could annoy Harry by being friends with Malfoy… _Musing about that unlikely situation, Summer made it to the dungeons with a hint of a smile on her face. In a considerably better mood, she glided up to the office door of the Potions Master and knocked.

"Come in," replied a disembodied voice.

Only now did Summer remember that having Professor Snape summon you is not usually a good sign. She pushed open the door.

"You wanted to see me, sir?"

"Take a seat, Miss Granger," he said and waved at the same stiff chair she remembered from before. The professor was currently occupied comparing a parchment to a large heavy book on the desk in front of him. It looked like it might take a while, so Summer allowed her eyes to stray. Ever the one to think of bright ideas, Summer immediately regretted her decision. The shelves lining the walls now came into sharp focus: jars containing floating body parts, something that looked suspiciously like a small human skull, and writhing black leech-like creatures swimming in a green tank. The books were outnumbered by the other objects, but were themselves numerous. One in particular caught Summer's eye. It was bound in dark leather, with blood red writing on the spine. She couldn't be sure, but from her perspective it looked like the titled read _Defining Dark Arts and Wizards in History._ Grim reading.

Summer turned her head away and refocused her gaze on Snape. After shifting a few times in the uncomfortable chair and fidgeting with the hem of her sleeves, the professor cleared his throat and closed the book.

"It has come to my attention that you are undergoing tutoring," Snape began. Summer felt her face flush. "Naturally, in such a situation, it is understandable. However, I do expect you to be proficient in standard Sixth Year Potions by the end of the year. Regardless of what appears to be a natural intuition of Potions, you will need tutoring in this subject particularly because of its delicacy."

Summer shifted in her seat, flicking her eyes upwards to Snape. This was starting to sound suspiciously like a lecture. On top of the afternoon's semi-disastrous flying lesson, Summer was not in a mood to be reminded of her shortcomings.

"Furthermore, the student which has been assigned to your education is utterly incompetent in Potions. I feel that, should your education be left in the hands of such an irresponsible and idiotic boy, your intellect and grades would suffer irreparably. Therefore it seems to be most logical that the further perusal of Potions should take place with myself, in order to prevent any mishaps and in order to develop greater skill."

Snape paused, and Summer took a few moments to sift through his grandiose words to find his meaning. She fought the urge to smirk as she realized he had been insulting Harry (an act that had often tempted her when she was frustrated with a new bit of magic). Then, she realized that Snape meant to tutor her himself.

"Well, Miss Granger?" he prompted, with a hint of impatience.

"I wasn't aware I had a choice, sir."

If Snape was disconcerted or taken aback by this, he hid it well. "There is always a choice, Miss Granger," he replied smoothly. "But at this moment there is also not much time. There are five years of lessons to learn." He paused. "But if you would rather be left at the mercy of Potter's dreadful Potions abilities…" he added casually, and left the implications in the air.

Summer smirked. "Honestly, sir, I would rather not." She could see the explosions and side-effects of mis-brewed potions already. It was not something she wanted. Harry had been good at teaching her everything else so far, but every time they touched on the topic of Potions, Summer was left feeling more confused than before.

"Very well. We will begin tomorrow with the basic First Year potions. First, a basic cure for boils, and perhaps something a little more… _interesting_, shall we say." Snape slid a small, fairly thin book across his desk. "This will be adequate preparation, I believe."

"Yes, sir," Summer replied automatically, and took the book without glancing at the cover. Snape's definition of "interesting" was almost certainly not the same as hers. Summer would rather go through the book someplace where he wouldn't see her reaction.

"9 o'clock, tomorrow, then. I trust that by now you know how to find the Potions classroom," he paused and added venomously, "Lateness will not be tolerated."

"No, sir." Summer was beginning to feel a bit robotic, having to add "sir" on to everything. At the door to his office, Summer stopped in sudden realization. "Tomorrow is Saturday."

Snape had already gone back to the parchment and book of before. He didn't look up. "Your point, Miss Granger?" He spoke as though she were a child.

Summer swallowed nervously. "Oh… nevermind," she said meekly, and left the dark and cold dungeons, and the Professor who controlled them.

* * *

"And now you have extra class with the git?" Ron asked, incredulously.

"Yes," Summer sighed, thinking that this whole situation sounded familiar. Despite it being Friday night, she had brought her bag down from her dormitory and was currently surrounded by Potions notes and textbooks, courtesy of her cousin. She was seated on a couch before the fire, with Ron and Hermione playing a game of wizard's chess on the rug in front of her. The game appeared tied, but Hermione's furrowed brow made it obvious that she needed to put a lot of effort into preventing Ron's eventual victory. It didn't help that her pieces were mutinous, and that one of the knights kept trying to take over as king.

"It's good that you're getting help from an expert," Hermione said, while prodding a reluctant pawn forward. Ron's bishop immediately glided forward and dragging the kicking pawn off the board. She frowned, then turned her attention back to Summer. "In fact, it's probably better than getting help from a student," and in a lower voice, "just don't tell Harry I said that."

"Oy! Harry's really good, okay?" Ron piped up, immediately defending him.

"At Potions?" Hermione inquired. Ron shifted uneasily. Triumphant, Hermione smiled. "That's what I thought. Summer, I have more books, if you want extra reading material. There really is a lot of detail to learn about in Potions."

"No, thanks, Hermione, you've been a tremendous help as it is," she replied, running a tired hand over her eyes and slouching so low on the couch that she was practically horizontal. It was getting close to midnight. Summer had spent the evening looking over notes in order to be as prepared as possible. Somehow, failing in front of Snape would be worse than failing in front of any other teacher. Maybe it was because tomorrow's lesson would be one on one.

"It's still unfair that your class is on Saturday," Ron grumbled. "And you'll be missing your first trip to Hogsmeade. Think of it: Honeyduke's! Zonko's! The Shrieking Shack! And of course, The Three Broomsticks!" A dreamy expression had filled Ron's eyes.

"It's not my first trip if I'm missing it, Ron," Summer pointed out. At his puzzled expression, she relented. "Yes, it will be awful to miss it. Bring me back some interesting sweets from Honeyduke's, at least."

Ron had just opened his mouth to agree when the portrait hole seemed to swing of its own volition. A hand appeared, and then Harry emerged from under his Invisibility Cloak. He hurried forward.

"Listen, I think I've found out ab—" he stopped abruptly when he reached the couch. "Oh… er, hello Summer. Didn't see you there." He gestured for Hermione and Ron to follow him. As they moved away, Summer heard them enter into a hushed intense conversation, too low to catch words or phrases. This was followed by the more distinctive sound of the painting of the Fat Lady swinging closed.

"Goodnight and goodbye to you, too," she sighed. Although, the one benefit of being so suddenly abandoned was that the common room was entirely empty now. Summer was left in peace to finally pull Snape's book out from the others and to read this recommended material. Eyes roving over the title, she was immediately glad she had waited for everyone to leave the room. She stifled a gasp. _Dangerous Draughts and Potente Poisons._

Summer quickly read through the book: it was thin and did not say much. Most potions were mentioned as vile and harmful, but no brewing instructions or antidotes were listed. After the chapter on Death-Altering Potions (she shuddered at that: could potions actually influence what happened after death?), was a chapter dedicated solely to the Draught of Living Death.

For neither the first nor the last time, Summer wondered what she had gotten herself into.


	8. The Cat's Out of the Bag

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Eight: The Cat's Out of The Bag**

Several Saturdays of Potions lessons passed. Most people still thought Summer was crazy for spending an entire day with Snape, especially considering it was always on a weekend. Summer, however, had grown accustomed to the quiet hours in the dungeons spent stirring simmering potions. Maybe, she thought, spending so much time there made her impervious to the severity of Severus Snape. She had even come to expect that the last two hours of each lesson would be spent on brewing a potion that was illegal, dangerous, or difficult to make. Even if it was with a teacher, Saturdays were spent in good company.

This didn't bother Summer, since she felt she was putting her time to good use. There was no reasonable alternative: Harry, Ron and Hermione were always disappearing for hours at a time, leaving Summer to her books. Despite the best efforts of her cousin, Summer was feeling excluded. Whether it was the five-year magical gap between them, or the physical barrier of books, she didn't know. And she was beginning to think she didn't care.

In the last week of October, Summer was in the library studying for an upcoming Astrology exam. She browsed the aisles, eventually finding the very dusty section dedicated to the stars. Apparently, Hogwarts students were not fond of reading any more about the rings of Saturn than was absolutely necessary. Only one book seemed less dusty than the others. If she asked the book who had last opened it, Summer was sure the answer would be Hermione. Summer picked up a book on the motion of constellations in relation to the Sun and continued down the aisle. She paused in front of a book with a strange title. _The Nebulous Nirnitooble of The Horsehead Nebula._ She reached out a hand to pick it up.

"That's a good one," said a dreamy voice. Turning, Summer spotted a pale blonde girl seated on the windowsill. The spacey look in her eyes and the butterbeer cork necklace made it evident: this was Luna Lovegood. "Freltik Babengosser is the author, he's a friend of my dad's."

"I'm Summer," she replied, introducing herself. Even if it was Loony Lovegood, a friend apart from Hermione and the boys would be welcome.

"Luna Lovegood. Most people call me Loony, but I don't like that very much," she said honestly. "You're Hermione's cousin, right? I like her… most Gryffindor's aren't too mean to me. Especially Ginny Weasley, she's really nice."

"Do you mind if I sit here?" Summer asked, gesturing to the bench below the window.

"Oh, no, not at all. I'll just move somewhere else."

"No, Luna, it's okay," Summer said uneasily. It seemed like both girls were used to getting shunted aside. "So, who is this Freltik guy anyways? And what's a nirnitooble?"

The Friday before Hallowe'en, Harry, Ron, and Hermione spent most of Double Potions hunched together and whispering. Summer, sitting at the far end of the bench, worked silently on the Lacrimea potion they were working on: like a magical equivalent of tear gas. She minded her own business, quite used to this exclusion. But, when Hermione turned to whisper something to Neville in the bench behind them, Summer glanced up. From the movements of heads and hands, she saw a message being passed from Neville to Dean to Seamus, and then to another bench of Gryffindors, to Lavender and Parvati. She frowned. This was something bigger than she had thought… what was going on?

"Too many fumes causing brain damage, Miss Granger?" Snape asked snidely, snapping her out of her thoughts. As usual, the Slytherins tittered. "More asphodel," he added quietly, and stalked on to criticize the next bench.

Summer added the required plant and the rest of the class passed without incident. By the end of the class, though, Snape had not yet told her what potions she would be brewing the following day so Summer approached him while everyone else packed up and took off. The room emptied, leaving Draco Malfoy and Summer standing before the Potion Master's desk. The two students glanced at each other. Malfoy snarled. Summer sighed.

"Well?" Snape asked, coolly.

Summer took a half-step forward. "Regarding tomorrow's lesson, sir –"

"Sunday, Granger. Review Third Year Potions. And you'll need this," Snape said, briskly cutting her off and handing her another book. This one, bound in grey cloth, looked considerably less dangerous than the previous ones.

"It's an odd coincidence, isn't it, sir?" she asked. Tomorrow, Saturday, was Hallowe'en, and the second Hogsmeade weekend of the year.

"Is it?" Snape asked, feigning indifference. Summer thought she saw a hint of a smile, but decided her mind must be playing tricks on her. Snape turned his attention to Draco. They began speaking quietly and quickly, which Summer took as her cue to leave. What others may have looked on with mild suspicion held no interest for her: she already envisioned cobblestone streets and wizarding sweets.

On the dawn of Hallowe'en, Summer woke early. She surprised herself a little: she had been prepared for what had become the usual Saturday routine, a quick breakfast and then Potions. She used the extra time to study, as usual, and was able to catch Hermione and the boys before they went down to breakfast.

"Good morning," she said cheerily.

Hermione returned the greeting and sat in an opposing chair while she waited for Harry and Ron. "How have you been doing? I'm sorry, I realize I really haven't had much time to help you… being a prefect is hard when there are so many troublemakers in this school." That much was true. Hermione had a collection of Skiving Snackboxes and other Weasley Wizarding Wheezes at the foot of her bed that seemed to grow every day.

"It's a lot to take in," Summer confessed, "but I think I'm getting the hang of things. Like for example, I've learned to never, ever ask Madam Pince a question, unless I feel like getting a forty-minute lecture." The two girls grinned, both having spent too much time in the library. "And it's not that bad, once you get over the embarrassingly wrong answers, et cetera, et cetera."

"That's good," Hermione replied, seemingly genuine. "You will let me know if you need more help, won't you? What are you reading anyways?" She peered closely at the title of Summer's book. "What's a nirnitooble?"

Summer laughed. "Don't ask. Luna recommended this book. And despite having lots of bizarre information, it actually gives a good account of the formation of stars in the Horsehead Nebula, so it's not that bad. Anyway, are you heading down to Hogsmeade with Ron and Harry?"

"Yes, did you want to join us? We have plans for later, after noon, but until then, we could show you around," Hermione offered.

And so with plans already made, all that was left was to carry them out. After breakfast, the four of them left the castle, bundled up in thick sweaters, warm cloaks, scarves and gloves. A sharp wind was blowing, urging them to run from store to store. At Honeyduke's, Summer bought a bag of Bertie Bott's Every-Flavour Jelly Beans (_Now With Extra-Terrestrial Flavors! Sunshine, Stardust, and Meteorite!_) and perused the shelves of the small store with great interest. She tried a sample of a candy that tasted like leaves and bark, and made her tongue feel unusually dry. When she looked in the mirror next to the display of the sweet, she found out why: it had actually turned her tongue into coarse bark. Luckily, the wrapper promised that the effect would fade within five minutes. They spent a few happy idle hours, but as they approached the Three Broomsticks, Summer's three companions became antsy.

"Oh, look, Neville!" Ron exclaimed gratefully.

"Yeah, we've got to go meet him," Harry supplied. "We've promised to work with him on… er…." He began fishing for a reasonable excuse.

"Herbology project!" Hermione said, and seized both boys by their elbows. "See you later, Summer!"

"Yeah, bye," Summer replied, but they were already shouting their greetings to Neville and entering a private conversation. They glanced back at her once, but she had already turned and began to walk back through the streets, towards the outskirts of the village.

She wandered aimlessly, wrapped in thoughts of what could be going on. There were few Gryffindors on the streets of Hogsmeade, and if she had to guess where they were, Summer would say that they were at the Three Broomsticks. She couldn't make up her mind if she wanted to be excluded or not: there was a certain degree of danger associated with getting involved with whatever they were doing. Vaguely she wondered what were the odds of her dying if she decided to join with them. One in twenty? One in two?

With these grim thoughts in her head, Summer found herself at the very edge of Hogsmeade, in front of an old dilapidated house with a heavy wrought-iron fence surrounding the property. A particularly hard gust of wind blew and the house creaked ominously. The noise confirmed it; she had reached the Shrieking Shack. Summer wrapped her cloak tighter and shivered.

"Not with the rest of Dumbledore's little soldiers?" asked a voice, making Summer jump nearly a foot in the air. Draco Malfoy stood close by, leaning against a tree. He tried to look more arrogant then scared as the house creaked again.

"W-what?" stammered Summer.

"Dumbledore's Army. I thought all Gryffindors were his loyal servants. Did no one invite you? Or have you gotten lost again?" he jeered.

"Stuff it, Malfoy," Summer said, turning back to the fence, looping her arms through the gaps. The house continued to creak and the wind tangled her hair.

"They say a werewolf lives in there," he said. "And at the full moon, he likes to come and rip the throats of frightened, lost Mudbloods."

Summer glared at him. "Really? And I supposed you know because you've been attacked already, have you?"

You could see the implication sinking in. Malfoy's face went from cocky to puzzled, and then very quickly to enraged. "How dare you! My blood is pure! The Malfoy line has never mingled with Muggles. Not like you, Mudblood," he spat.

"What's it to you, anyway? Scared that the Granger girls will outsmart you?" Summer snapped. She pushed off from the fence angrily and faced the surrounding trees, trying to find the way back to Hogsmeade. This Hallowe'en was not turning out as fun as it ought to be.

"Not scared at all, Mudblood. In fact, judging by the way things are shaping up outside the protection of Hogwarts, you're the one who should be scared. Haven't you heard? The Dark Lord loves having Mudbloods around… to torture."

Draco stopped abruptly when he found Summer's wand inches away from his nose.

"First, you will stop calling me Mudblood. My name is Summer. Second, you will stop making empty threats. What harm could a ferret do?" she mocked.

"How do you know about that?" he demanded.

"Doesn't matter," she replied briskly. "Do we have an understanding?"

"Only two demands? That's pretty lax, Mu--," he cut himself off and changed tactics. "What were you going to use on me, just out of curiosity? Wingardium Leviosa? Some other first year spell? Maybe you would have Disarmed me, d'you think?"

"Don't insult my intelligence, Malfoy, it's not nice," she scolded. "And trust me, I've spent enough time in the library to find some very inventive hexes. Care to find out what they are?" Draco scowled, Summer sighed. She was tired of bickering with anyone and everyone. She lowered her wand and took a closer look at the trees. There were three paths that converged here, in front of the Shrieking Shack. Her courage failed her.

"Ah, so the little Gryffindor is lost after all," he taunted.

"Shut up, Slytherin, and just tell me which path it is," Summer growled.

"Oh, I don't think I will."

"It's getting late."

"So?"

The wind was becoming more vicious and biting. Dark clouds hung low in the sky. It was impossible to tell what time it was. Summer's cheeks were red from the cold and her eyes were stinging. Frustrated, she kicked a tree stump, swore at the jolt of pain in her toes, and sat down on the stump. She glared at Draco, who had recovered from Summer's threats, now smirked and crossed his arms.

"Going to cry? Or wait for Potter to save you again?"

"I think you'll be quite surprised to find that you're the one that will be saving me," Summer replied.

Draco snorted and answered sarcastically. "There is nothing I would like more than to save a Gryffindor, much less a Mu—," he caught himself again as Summer's gloved hand raised her wand a fraction of an inch. "Why do you think I'd save you anyways?"

"Oh, you aren't going to do it intentionally," she said casually. "Because you'll return to the castle, and I'll just follow you."

"What if I take the wrong road?"

"And risk getting lost yourself? I doubt your pride could stand it."

Draco frowned. "You think you're so clever, don't you?"

"I do. And you think you're so almighty, don't you?"

"I do," he huffed, although not entirely pleased.

They stared at each other in silence for a few moments. It seemed they had reached an impasse. Suddenly Draco took out his wand and laid it flat on his palm. He glanced at Summer, as though to make sure she was watching. "_Point me_," he said to the wand, and it spun to point at the right-hand path. He looked back up at Summer, who was looking from him, to his wand, to the path, to her own wand.

"Oh. Thanks," she said meekly.

"So clever, but you couldn't figure that out?" Draco jibed.

"How many times am I going to have to tell you to shut up, Malfoy?" she responded, and then walked off along the indicated path. Without looking back, she waved a hand at him in thanks. Out of her sight, he shook his head. Life at Hogwarts got stranger every year.

That evening, Summer entered the Great Hall with the rest of the students. As usual, the hours before dinner had been spent reading and doing homework. It hadn't very much improved her mood to see a bunch of sixth and seventh year students holding an intense discussion in a corner of the common room. So when she reached the Great Hall, she was surprised to find that Hermione waved at her to join them. Summer flopped down in her seat.

"How did you find Hogsmeade?" Hermione asked.

"Good. How did you find the D.A. meeting?" Summer retorted. She didn't mean to be rude, but had gotten a little edgy since her encounter with Draco.

Harry and Ron exchanged dark glances and Hermione's mouth formed an 'o'. Apparently, they had been trying to keep Summer out of the loop.

"Er… yeah, about that," Ron began uneasily.

"It's not the time, and it's not the place," Hermione cut in. She gave a significant look at Summer. "We'll talk about it later, in the common room."

More and more students were filing into the Great Hall and taking their seats. Lavender and Parvati were on one side of them, talking loudly and excitedly about their purchases from Hogsmeade, while the Creevey brothers were at Harry's elbow, trying to convince him to pose for some photos in his Quidditch uniform, saying it would make a great Christmas card. Luna was taking a seat at the Ravenclaw table when she saw Summer. While responding to Summer's small wave, Luna bumped into the boy next to her, causing him to spill pumpkin juice down the front of his robes. Luna, oblivious, sat down dreamily.

A hush fell over the hall as Dumbledore stood and smiled down at them from the Head Table. He began his usual odd sort of speech. Summer wondered if he still recalled first meeting her. With all the mischief in the school, it wasn't likely. She glanced around at the other house tables. The Hufflepuffs were listening obediently. Her own table had a few heads whispering closely together; Summer guessed it had to do with the D.A., again. At Ravenclaw's table, Luna was now perusing an edition of the Quibbler, where the front-page photo mimicked the reader's moves. And at Slytherin, Malfoy caught her eye and scowled. Feeling suddenly angry and childish, Summer had an insane urge to stick her tongue out at him. _Oh, hell, _she thought, _no one's paying any attention to me anyways. _She glared at Draco and stuck out her tongue. He winked and smirked. Summer turned her eyes back to Dumbledore, determined to get through the rest of the day in as normal a fashion as possible, and without losing her temper, either. She was beginning to think Potions was a better use of Saturdays.

Back in the common room, Harry cornered Summer and demanded where she had found out about what their plans had been with Neville, and everyone else, for that matter.

"It's not like it's a big secret," she replied. "I may not know much about magic yet, but I'm observant enough to see that you've all been tiptoeing around."

Harry frowned, he thought, he ran a hand through his hair. Indecisiveness gripped him. He looked for a few moments as though he had swallowed a fly that was buzzing around in his head. Luna might've told him it was a Wrackspurt. Hermione and Ron finally came over, Ron playing with a newly confiscated Fanged Frisbee and Hermione scolding him.

"So?" Hermione asked. "Everything all figured out?"

"Well, actually--," Harry began.

"Great!" Hermione said, cutting him off and fishing in her pockets. She handed a galleon to a very bewildered Summer. "This is how we keep in touch. See, these numbers here? They tell you--,"

"Hermione!" Harry said sharply. It sounded more like a whine than a reproach.

Ron look nervously between the two of them.

"Harry still seems to think you're not to be trusted," Hermione sighed.

"Does he?" hissed Summer, narrowing her eyes at Harry, momentarily seized with anger again. After a tense moment, she sank back against the wall. "Fine, then. Keep your galleon, I'm going to bed." She tossed the coin at Hermione and turned.

Behind Summer's retreating back, Hermione shot a glare at Harry, looking very much like she would enjoy nothing more than to smack him. With a swirl of robes, she was off up the staircase, following Summer.

"Summer?" Hermione asked tentatively as she entered the sixth year dormitory. The curtains of the farthest bed were drawn. A muffled voice came from within the bed.

"Sure you don't want to run and hide? I might hex you or something."

"Don't be ridiculous," replied Hermione. "I trust you, you ought to know that. You are family, after all. Come on, Summer, just listen to me for a few moments."

Summer whipped open the curtains, words of anger ready on her tongue. But, seeing Hermione's honest and pleading face, she stopped. "I can't do it anymore, Hermione, I feel like I'm being attacked from all sides."

"I wish you'd told me sooner," came the sincere reply.

"You were a little busy with your…" Summer paused, waving a hand in the air, "extracurricular club." She flopped down on the bed again in exasperation and stared up at the dark red canopy. "Besides, if I'm not trusted, I ought not to trust others."

"You sound like a whiny child," snapped Hermione. "Or worse, like Ron." This made the corner of Summer's mouth twitch. Hermione sat on the edge of Summer's bed. "They're boys, Summer, so of course they're idiots too." She pressed the galleon back into Summer's hand. "Take it, shut up, and listen. Dumbledore's Army is the name of a bunch of students. We got together last year to fight this awful hag named Umbridge, but now she's gone, so there was really no point for it. In August, when the three of us were at Ron's house, getting ready to come here to Hogwarts, Harry had a dream, a vision. He can see or feel the same things as Vol… Voldemort, sometimes, when he's really angry. Anyway, it turned out Voldemort was planning something… an infiltration of what used to be secure institutions: the Ministry of Magic, and Hogwarts. We know the Ministry's already been taken: the _Daily Prophet_ isn't saying much about it, of course, but the rumors are flying. A few strange disappearances, or sudden changes in policy. It's obvious. And now Harry thinks Hogwarts is next. So of course when you showed up, he was suspicious. Since then, the D. A. has been reformed and we've been meeting regularly, practicing defensive magic. Harry hasn't wanted you in because he doesn't trust you completely, but I do, so here! Take the galleon, and come join us. If you don't… you might not know enough to protect yourself."

Summer blinked slowly, more than a little overwhelmed. Hermione took a deep breath to calm herself. She was trembling, as though shocked that she would go against Harry's word.

"Hermione…"

"Maybe it's best not to tell Harry, for now," Hermione said quickly. "Just come to the next meeting… maybe he won't notice."

"Hermione, now you're the one sounding like Ron," Summer replied, shaking her head. "I really doubt he won't notice." The two girls chuckled. "But, I'll come." A thick, full silence settled between them. After a moment, Summer added, "Thanks. Really, thank you."

Hermione smiled. "Happy Hallowe'en."

When Summer finally fell asleep that night, she felt much better than she had in a long time.


	9. DA Means Disaster Approaching

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Nine: D.A. Means Disaster Approaching**

The potion bubbling in front of Summer was producing a lilac-colored mist that was making her feel very relaxed. She inhaled deeply and smiled. Potions was almost as therapeutic for her as flying must be for Harry.

"Finished?" Snape asked from the front of the class where he sat at his desk, marking fourth-year essays.

"Yes, sir," Summer replied happily. This potion was making her feel carefree and calm. It was wonderful, and she wondered if she could bottle some to take with her. It would definitely be useful before exams, and the next time she lost her temper.

Snape rose from the desk and peered into her cauldron. "Bottle it," he said curtly, waving his wand and producing a few small bottles.

Summer set about her task. In fact, she thought, the longer she stayed around the potion, the more lethargic she seemed to be. The fumes must be getting to her, as each bottle was increasingly heavy and she fought the urge to sleep. She yawned hugely.

"Late night, Granger?" Snape mocked.

"No, sir," she said, fighting off another yawn. She frowned. "Actually, I went to sleep quite early."

"When you're finished bottling, take the potion up to the Hospital Wing. The reason for your fatigue is the potion: it is what Madam Pomfrey gives to injured students to calm them down."

"Oh," said Summer, yawning again. She shook her head as though to clear out dust bunnies, and bottled the last of the potion. Almost immediately, the drowsiness was lifted, allowing her brain to function properly. "Wait… you mean, people are actually going to drink this?" she asked, worried.

"I would like to think that these lessons are not a complete waste of time, Granger," he replied snidely. "Yes, people will be making use of that potion. Keep the book, you'll need it for next week." He added the last part as Summer moved to place the grey book on his desk again.

"More for Madam Pomfrey, sir?"

"Yes. Chapters 13 through 17 should be sufficient preparation."

"Yes sir," replied Summer, getting ready to leave. "How was your Hallowe'en, professor?"

"It was a night like any other," said Snape curtly.

"Did you have fun?"

"It was adequately enjoyable," snapped Snape irritably. "Do not forget the essay on the uses of gillyweed in anti-venom potions for tomorrow. Three feet of parchment."

Summer murmured an assurance and left quickly. Apparently the rumor about Severus Snape's lack of social skills was not a rumor: the man was positively a hermit. As she made her way to the library, hoping to get another book on plants and potionmaking, or to find Neville and ask for help, a small but self-confident second year girl stopped her on the marble staircase.

"You're the new girl, right? Summer?"

"Er, yeah, that's me," Summer replied, brow furrowed, and uncertain why a second year would know her.

"Professor McGonagall would like to see you immediately. She'll be in her office, on the fourth floor. You just turn left after the painting of Lady Hermenegilda --,"

"I know where it is," retorted Summer.

"Fine," replied the girl with a shrug. And then the girl was gone, disappearing into a tapestry and the hidden passage beyond. Summer, wary of another bad day, headed for the deputy headmistress' office.

"Come in," was the reply when, after only one wrong turn, Summer knocked on McGonagall's door. The older witch was sitting at her desk, marking essays. It seemed to be a popular activity for teachers lately.

"You wanted to see me?"

"Yes, please sit, Miss Granger," McGonagall said and after a few more moments of quill-scratching and paper-shuffling, McGonagall turned her attention to Summer. "You may have notice that all the teachers are busy grading assignments." At a nod from Summer, she continued. "Because it is the beginning of November, most of us at Hogwarts are growing increasingly concerned with the upcoming Christmas examinations --,"

"Christmas?" Summer jumped in, cutting off the professor. "But it was Hallowe'en just yesterday!"

"Yes, indeed, Miss Granger," McGonagall replied smoothly. "Most of the professors have found your performance lacking, naturally, but are confident that by the end of the year you will have caught up. Professor Flitwick says you've made great improvements, and Professor Snape has not made complaints." This last bit was said as though it was a compliment… although, coming from Snape, it probably was.

"Okay… that's good, right?" Summer clarified.

"Quite. However, just to make sure that you are keeping up, you will be sitting an extra examination in December. I realize that it will be stressful for you, to take normal sixth year examinations, but we must be certain that you do not fall behind."

"Right. Great." This was quite possibly the least enthusiastic Summer had been since coming to Hogwarts. Bad enough that she understood only half, at best, of what her professors were teaching her, and that Harry remained stubbornly suspicious of her, and that people stopped her in the halls to _give_ her directions, but now, on top of it all, she had the pleasure of writing an extra exam. The icing on the cake, she thought wryly.

"The examination will likely take place in either Professor Dumbledore's office or my own. We will let you know shortly. Expect to write it on the day following your final regular exams."

"Yes, Professor," replied Summer.

McGonagall's expression softened and she leaned forward on her desk. "My dear girl, I assure you: you have absolutely nothing to worry about. If you are anything at all like Hermione, this exam will be merely a quiz." She patted Summer's hand.

"Right. Thank you, Professor." As she was leaving, a question occurred to Summer. Hand already on the door, she paused and asked, "What will I be expected to know, Professor?"

"Only up to fourth year material. I am certain Harry will be able to teach you that much by Christmas."

"Up to fourth year, or including?"

"Including," McGonagall assured. "Enjoy the rest of the weekend, Miss Granger."

"Yeah, will do," Summer grumbled.

Sunday evening found Harry, Ron and Hermione studying in the common room. The boys were struggling to finish assignments at the last minute and Hermione was serenely petting Crookshanks, having finished all her homework earlier in the day. They hadn't seen Summer since breakfast, although several times Hermione had told the boys that when Summer did finally return to the common room, they had to be nice to her. She was on the urge of reminding them again when loud voices were heard coming from just outside the portrait hole. A moment later the portrait swung open, Summer entered, and the portrait slammed shut.

Summer stormed over to where they were sitting and shooed Crookshanks off of Hermione's lap. Throwing her bag heavily down on the floor, she flopped onto the couch beside Hermione, and lay down so that her head was in her cousin's lap.

"Please kill me," Summer said solemnly, looking up into Hermione's startled face.

"Why? What's happened?" she asked, starting to stroke Summer's hair in the same way she had been petting her cat moments ago.

"I can't find any more books on gillyweed for our Potions essay, I just got into a fight with the Fat Lady because apparently I wasn't polite enough when I told her the password, and McGonagall told me this afternoon that I have to write an extra exam in December," Summer replied in one breath, and threw a dramatic hand over her eyes. "I'm done, finished, over. Kill me."

Hermione laughed. "Pressure getting to you?"

"You should've seen us last year during our O.W.L.s," added Ron, seemingly grateful for an excuse to procrastinate. He immediately put his assignments aside.

"Alright, one thing at a time," Hermione said. "We can't help it that the Fat Lady gets inexplicably snappish sometimes… maybe she got into that painting of the drunk monks again. But apart from that, how much have you got written for Potions?"

"Three feet and about six inches," said Summer from her reclining position. "But I just wanted to double-check my facts. I'm worried that I misunderstood the usefulness of powdered gillyweed in the anti-venom for python attacks."

Ron snorted. "You're just as bad as Hermione."

The girl in question scowled. "Just because we want good grades, Ron, doesn't mean you should be jealous. And Summer, don't worry, I'll read it over for you. Have you got it with you?"

Summer, too lazy and depressed to physically get it out of her bag, raised her wand. "_Accio Potions essay_." The roll of parchment wriggled out of her bag and wobbled into the air, then gave up being airborne and dropped unceremoniously on her face. "I can't ever get that right," Summer grumbled as Hermione picked up the essay and unfurled the first few inches.

"You need to be more focused," said Harry. He spoke without looking up from his History of Magic notes.

Summer twisted her head around to see him better. "Thanks, I'll practice more later. Listen, Harry, would you be able to tutor me more often in December, before the exam? I have to know everything up to, and including, fourth year magic. It'd really help me a lot, if it isn't too much trouble."

"It is," he replied curtly. "I've got to focus on my own studies, and on Quidditch."

The excuse seemed false and flimsy. "Quidditch," repeated Summer. "Right."

Shortly afterwards, Harry and Ron gave up on History of Magic and went to bed. Summer got lost in her worries about the exam, even though it was nearly two months away, and envisioned her failure by transfiguring an egg into a teacup, rather than a saucer. Hermione absently stroked Summer's hair with one hand, holding Summer's Potions essay with her other hand. The common room became quiet and empty as the clock ticked steadily towards midnight.

"It's good," Hermione said, finally, rolling up the parchment. "And regarding the python anti-venom, it's never been proven to make a difference whether you use powdered or jellied gillyweed. I'm sure Snape will mark you fairly."

Summer sighed in relief, taking the roll of parchment. "Thanks, Hermione, you've been wonderful." She pushed herself upright again and put the essay back in her bag, ready to head to bed.

"Have you checked the galleon I gave you?" Hermione asked in a quiet voice, as though they were in danger of being overheard by the furniture. They crept slowly up the stairs to their dormitory.

"No," replied Summer, feeling guilty. "Why?"

"The next D.A. meeting is on Tuesday, at 7 in the evening. Meet me in the library after dinner, and we can go together."

"Thanks again, Hermione. Good night."

"Goodnight," said Hermione, already climbing into her bed. After a moment she stuck her head back through the drapes. "Oh, and Summer…"

"Yeah?"

"Don't worry so much," she said, with a wink, and disappeared back into the depths of her bed.

* * *

Tuesday came sooner than Summer had expected. Feeling as though maybe all the clocks in the school had fast-forwarded several hours, Summer perched on the edge of a chair in the library, mindlessly flipping the pages of a book for Herbology. Every small noise made her glance around sharply. Every few seconds, she looked up at the clock. 6:31 pm. 6:32 pm. She read a paragraph about Mandrakes, the sentences passing through her mind without sinking in. 6:34 pm.

Someone cleared their throat behind her and Summer nearly jumped out of her skin. She whirled around. Draco, arms folded, smirking arrogantly, was leaning against the nearest shelves.

"Interesting book?"

"Very," Summer replied, tensely.

"Seems full of suspense."

"It is." She didn't know why she was lying so blatantly. Surely Malfoy could see the title, _Fabulous and Fearsome Flora_, from where he was standing. It was neither interesting nor full of suspense.

"Hm."

"And you?" Summer asked.

"Me what?"

"What're you doing here? Reading interesting books?" she said sarcastically.

"It _is_ a library, Granger," he pointed out.

"So I see." A silence settled between them. What was she to say? Thank you for helping me find my way back to Hogwarts when I was too stupid to do it myself? Thanks for teaching me a new spell? Or should she insult him again? She compromised by pretending to be engrossed in her book. The next time she looked up to check the time (6:47 pm), Malfoy had disappeared. A few moments later (6:49 pm), Hermione rushed into the library.

"Hi, so sorry, had to get rid of Ron, you know," she whispered quickly, picking up some of Summer's books, and ushering her out of the library. "Come on, we'd better hurry, especially if we don't want Harry to notice."

At that, a stab of guilt went through Summer. Was this right? But Hermione wouldn't hear a word of Summer's doubts or protests, and they ran through hallways and up stairs, finally arriving out of breath in a deserted corridor on the seventh floor, remarkable only because of a horrid tapestry depicting dancing trolls.

"Do you remember how we got here?" Hermione asked. Summer nodded. "Okay, good. Next time I hope you'll just check the galleon for the time, and that you won't get lost." Summer opened her mouth to argue, but decided against it, and let Hermione continue. "What you've got to do, is walk past this wall three times, thinking hard of what you need. In our case, we need the headquarters of Dumbledore's Army. Ready?" And, holding Summer's hand as though it might help, or keep her from leaving, Hermione led them past the blank wall. On the third pass, a door materialized, behind which a low murmur of voices could be heard.

Summer could feel her heartbeat in her fingers and hear it pounding madly in her eardrums. If Harry found out, if he was already there, watching the entrance to the Room of Requirement, Summer was lost… surely, now, he would get angry with Hermione as well, and perhaps even accuse the both of them of being Death Eaters or spies… paranoia, after all, made anything seem likely.

But, Summer soon realized that she was panicking for no reason. The room, bright and usually spacious, was filled with students talking excitedly. Hermione was immediately called over by some younger students asking for help, which gave Summer the perfect opportunity to slink to the back, unnoticed. For a few minutes, the students gossiped about everything until a silence spread through them with the arrival of Harry. Here, in front of his fellows, Harry wore the mantle of leadership well. He began a brief explanation of what they hoped to achieve today: Disillusionment charms. Summer observed, seeing students nodding in understanding and listening carefully. Some of them were as old, or older than Harry was, and still they paid him due respect.

When they paired up to try the Charms on one another, Summer found herself facing the same girl who had delivered McGonagall's message.

"Hey, Summer, right?" the girl asked.

"Yeah… er… I'm sorry, I don't know your name," Summer apologized, feebly, more concerned at the moment with keeping her back to Harry.

"Don't worry about it. Nel River, Ravenclaw" the girl replied with ease. "You go first."

They started practicing, Summer managing to Disillusion about half of Nel, and the younger girl (on her toes in order to reach the top of Summer's head) having about the same success. Once, Nel managed to entirely Disillusion Summer, but when Summer panicked at not being able to see herself, the charm flickered and dissolved on its own. Although Harry passed close to them several times, the two girls didn't attract much attention: the people who had turned bright colors, disappeared completely, or were hitting one another on the heads with their wands without any results, these were the people Harry paid most attention to.

After about an hour and a half, Harry called for quiet.

"You've done brilliantly. If you can, practice a bit before the next time we meet. Next time we'll go over Disillusionment, fix it up if we can. I'm hoping to start Arms Transfiguration before Christmas."

"What's that?" asked the younger Creevey brother, Denis.

"Transfiguring normal objects into something you can use, like a shield or a sword, or maybe even shelter," Harry replied. "Okay? Good. See you."

Students began filing slowly out of the room while Ron and Hermione hung back with Harry. Summer, uncertain if she should wait or not, hovered in the shadows close to the door. When Luna and Neville left, Luna talking animatedly about Crumple Horned Snorkacks, Summer decided to leave. She was just stepping after them, when—

"Summer."

Harry had spoken her name without any hint of emotion, yet it felt as though he had yelled. Cover busted, she stopped, turned, and stared determinedly at her shoes. She heard Hermione shuffle nervously. In the corner of her eye, she spotted Ron trying to look at once imposing and friendly, crossing and uncrossing his arms, clearly unsure whether he ought to support Harry or Hermione.

"I hope you found the lesson informative," said Harry, quietly, formally, stiffly.

Summer's head jerked up. She had not expected this, but accusations. "Yes, I did."

"Good." He did not actually sound happy, and looked cross, frowning. "Let me know if you need help," he said coldly, and moved past her, exiting the room. Ron, glancing at the two girls and giving an apologetic shrug, followed him out.

Summer looked at Hermione, stunned. "What did you do?" she asked.

Hermione grinned triumphantly. "I told him that if he was still suspicious of you, then he might as well admit now that Malfoy is Voldemort's heir and that Dumbledore is out to kill Harry. In general, that he was being idiotic and absolutely illogical," replied Hermione.

"Did you really?" Summer gave her a quick hug and they strolled out into the corridor. "Hermione, where would I be without you?"

"The library?"

The two Grangers burst into giggles.


	10. Truth

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Ten: Truth**

Something cold, like a melting snowball, trickled down Harry's head and onto his neck. The feeling stopped as it reached his knees.

"Try again. Stay focused, Summer," he advised.

The Other Granger, as some had taken to calling Summer, lifted the Disillusionment Charm. Tight-lipped and frowning, she raised her wand again and tapped the top of Harry's head. Half an hour ago, they had abandoned the goblin wars of the 16th century, and were now practicing recent D.A. spells. This time, Harry felt the Disillusion cover him entirely and felt satisfaction. At least Summer was a quick learner, like Hermione.

"Good," said Harry's disembodied voice. Summer tapped him again and the charm was lifted. "Do you want to give History of Magic another go?"

"Yes, oh please, Professor, can't we? I'm sure it'll be fascinating," she replied, oozing sarcasm. Returning to seriousness, Summer added, "Come on, let's be done for today. Let's not, and say we did."

Harry shook his head. "Tempting, but no. I don't need McGonagall finding out and losing more points for Gryffindor. What else have we got to cover?" Harry picked up the now-well-worn parchment explaining requirements for each year of study. They had worked their way through First and Second years, and were almost finished Third Year. "Transfiguration, we've covered already. History of Magic, more or less… the goblins didn't like the wizards, or each other, so they had a lot of wars. Herbology, done. By the way, how'd you do on Snape's essay?"

It was Friday, and the essay they'd handed in on Monday had been given back in today's Potions lesson, to the dismay of many students.

"I did well enough," Summer replied, noncommitant. In reality, she had received a high mark, probably close to Hermione's, and Snape had written her a brief comment at the top of her essay. _Adequate_. It had made her grin.

"Hmph. Well, I learned to conjure a Patronus in Third Year… it's not strictly on the curriculum, but we might as well try it, and start Fourth Year topics next week," said Harry, setting down the parchment. "The basic purpose of a patronus is to protect you from Dementors, but I've also heard that you can use them to send messages. Right now, it's better to only use them for Dementors, it's easier. I mean, it's not easy," he said, quickly backtracking his words. "You've got to think of something that makes you really happy. A moment, or a feeling. And when you're ready, you say the incantation. _Expecto patronum!_" A silvery stag burst forth from the tip of Harry's wand, cantered around the classroom once, and evaporated. He gestured for Summer to try.

"Happy thoughts, happy thoughts," she muttered under her breath. She thought of the first time she rode a bike without her training wheels, and the glorious sensation of freedom. Summer said the incantation. Harry, standing at the teacher's desk, looked from Summer to the wand that failed to produce a patronus.

"Something happier," he suggested.

Summer thought, then, of flying for the first time, soaring through the air, held only by a conscious stick of wood, by real magic. The wind stinging her face, gravity being toyed with… This time, she managed a writhing silver smoke, but, as soon as her thoughts of flying were fully formed, she remembered falling from a terrifying height, just barely getting out of the lesson alive. The smoke vanished.

"Alright, let's try something else," Harry said, striding across the classroom. When he reached the other side, he turned to face Summer. "It might work better if you have a Dementor in front of you, but for now you'll just have to make do. Pretend I'm a Dementor, about to suck the soul out of you, and try again."

Summer didn't even raise her wand. "Seriously?" She arched an eyebrow.

Harry tapped his school robes with his wand and they transformed into the long, tattered black hooded robes of a Dementor. "Better?" he asked, as he drew the hood down over his face.

"Sort of. Conjure up some smoke too, and maybe some creepy music."

"That's not helping, Summer. Now, focus," he scolded her. In fact, as Harry stood on the raised platform normally reserved for professors, he towered over Summer the way a Dementor usually would. And, with a slight smirk, he conjured up a cold fog that rolled around their ankles and climbed eagerly onto any bit of exposed skin, making goosebumps appear on Summer's arms. It was much easier now, to feel fear, especially considering Harry's hesitant acceptance of her, and recalling the memories of being cornered by him and accused. She thought of something completely opposite, something happy. Searching her recent memories, Summer focused on the calm feeling she had during peacefully spent Saturdays in the Potions classroom. She raised her wand to cast the Patronus charm, a small smile on her lips.

Harry, seeing Summer raise her wand with a strange smile on her face, felt a sharp stab of pain in his scar. As she opened her mouth to say the incantation, another bolt of pain seized him and he doubled over. He heard a high cackling in his head, Voldemort was laughing madly. Something was going very well for Voldemort, exactly as planned. Harry looked up through his receding pain at Summer, approaching him.

"Harry?" she asked, worried. The smile was gone from her face. "Are you okay? I swear, I didn't cast anything." She had come close enough now to reach out a concerned hand.

"Don't!" he said harshly, swiping her hand away. With a tremendous effort, he straightened up and returned his robes to normal Hogwarts ones. Then, he backed away from Summer, suspicious.

"What's happened?" she asked quietly.

Harry frowned and paced angrily. Voldemort was exceedingly happy, just at the moment when Summer had raised her wand at Harry. Were the two things connected? It seemed a highly unlikely coincidence. He glanced at Summer, now wringing her hands in concern, wand put away. Not an immediate threat, in other words.

"Why are you really here?" he asked.

"To learn? Don't you remember?" she asked uncertainly.

"I mean, really," he snapped. "Who sent you here?"

"Y-you did… remember, we landed in the fire." Summer felt shaky, and wondered if maybe she hadn't performed some magic by accident that had muddled Harry's brain.

"I don't believe you. You must have been sent by a Death Eater, or maybe by Voldemort himself," he said, now speaking to himself.

"Oh, that again," Summer sighed in exasperation. "How many times do I have to tell you, I'm not a spy!" Harry just glared at her, thinking now that much of her behaviour was possible of being interpreted as malevolent. "Can't you get it into your head that I'm just a normal girl?" Harry's thoughts jumped to her extra Potions lessons… was she really learning, or was she plotting something with Snape? "Do you need to examine my brain to make sure that I'm not secretly plotting your demise?"

Harry perked up at that. "Yes, I do."

"Pardon me?" Summer asked, shocked.

"Come with me," he said and swept from the Transfiguration classroom.

"Where are we going?"

"To see Snape."

The rest of the walk was silent, Harry still fuming, Summer trying to calm down. She was hoping for the best. Professor Snape, although never outwardly warm and cuddly to Summer, was at least neutral now, and didn't hold it against her for being in Gryffindor House. And even if there was Veritaserum involved, Summer was fairly confident of not embarrassing herself too much. Besides, she thought, Harry knew Snape was/is a Death Eater, and probably wouldn't believe him anyways.

Harry strode into the Potions classroom, and to Snape's office, entering without knocking.

"Potter, Miss Granger," said Snape, looking up from his desk. "To what do I owe this displeasure?" he sneered. "I trust you don't need lessons, too, Potter? Perhaps in courtesy, things such as knocking?"

Harry ignored these obvious jibes and got straight to the point. "I need Veritaserum."

Snape looked from Harry, enraged, to Summer, complacent. "Even if I were to break school rules, which I will not, why would you have need of it?"

"I need the truth from her," Harry replied tersely, indicating Summer.

"I see. Miss Granger?"

"Yes, Professor?"

"The truth, if you please," said Snape, either being sarcastic, or uncharacteristically polite.

Summer stood her ground and lifted her chin defiantly. "I am not, nor have I ever been, a spy, nor a Death Eater, nor any one working against Harry Potter."

"Is that what you've been accused of? My my, Granger, you seem to be stepping on the toes of the infamous hero," Snape replied coolly. "Well, Potter. Miss Granger is not a spy, a Death Eater, or out to get you. Perhaps you are simply looking for another enemy." Snape turned his attention back to his work.

"Legilimize her, then," ordered Harry.

"That, Potter, is also against school policy," replied Snape. "And may I remind you, that you should address me with due respect."

"Right, _professor_." But Harry didn't move and Summer shifted on her feet. She was tired, and tempted to sit in the one uncomfortable chair in Snape's office.

"Unless you'd like a detention, Potter, I suggest you leave."

"Not until I get some answers." Harry was as stubborn as he was famous, thought Summer.

Snape sighed, resigned. "Miss Granger, if you have anything to hide, I suggest you do it now."

"I don't," said Summer honestly.

"Very well." And, looking into Summer's eyes and raising his wand, Snape spoke the incantation. "_Legilimens._"

Summer felt as though someone had pried her mind open with a crowbar, but tried her best not to resist it. Thoughts and scenes flashed before her minds' eye. Her living room, back in America. Arriving in the Gryffindor common room fireplace. Finding out she was related to Hermione. The completely liberating feeling of flying. The thoughts slowed down when they reached the scene of her explaining to Harry for the first time, that she had lied, but unknowingly told the truth. Summer could feel Snape flipping through her thoughts like a photo album. Her confusion, her delight, and her frustration. Abruptly, Snape sat back, breaking the connection and left Summer feeling very alone in her mind. She staggered back a few paces.

"Weird," she muttered, rubbing her temples.

"I'm sorry to disappoint you, Potter," Snape said. "Miss Granger is in fact, only a witch. You'll have to find someone else to demonize." With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them. Harry stormed from the room, angry about being wrong, but Summer hung back for a moment.

"Thanks, Professor." And then she too, was gone.

Now out of sight of any eyes, Summer let her temper reign free again. Anger surged through her, fury at Harry. Always, he suspected the worst of her. And just as things seemed to be settling down, he had broken down in pain during their tutoring and he seemed to blame her. Now, suspicions, tension and tempers had flared again and Summer knew she would have a few more awkward silent encounters with Harry before everything regaining some semblance of normalcy. She hoped that this wouldn't become an ongoing trend. As she approached Gryffindor Tower, she felt trepidation.

In the common room, other students seemed to be giving her a wide berth. In a corner, Harry sat with Ron and Hermione, having a very heated discussion in whispers.

"Would you stop it?" Hermione hissed. "You're being paranoid. Next, you'll be telling us she's in cahoots with Malfoy!"

"Maybe she already is!" Harry replied. "I think Snape was protecting her and lying… why else would my scar have hurt then? At the moment when she pointed her wand at me? What other explanation is there?"

"It could have been coincidence," Ron suggested, but wavered under Harry's glare.

"It's not coincidence! We should never have let her in the D.A., or into Hogwarts at all!" Harry spat vehemently.

"Do I get a chance to defend myself?" asked Summer. She had been waiting, with arms crossed, at the edge of their whispered debate for an opportunity.

"I don't want to hear any more lies," said Harry.

"You won't," Summer assured him. "Professor Snape was telling the truth, so was I. I don't know what happened tonight, but I swear I didn't do anything to cause it. You've had me legilimized, there's no better proof than that."

"Yes, there is!" cried Hermione. "Summer, give me your wand." Summer, trusting her cousin more than Harry, obliged. "_Prior Incantato."_ A silvery smoke issued from Summer's wand, the best of her attempted patronus.

Ron snorted. "That's not very good."

"I'd like to see you do better, two months into your magical education," snapped Summer. "And anyway, this proves that I haven't done any magic that would have hurt Harry, unless he's scared of my miserable patronus."

"I'm sorry, Harry," said Hermione, "but there really is no evidence for Summer being evil or Dark." She handed the wand back to Summer. "Can't you put this behind you?"

Harry grunted without looking at Summer. Looking utterly depressed, he twitched his head in what could be interpreted as a nod. "I'm trusting your judgement, Hermione. Keep an eye on her," he said darkly.

The next morning at breakfast, Summer was already half-finished before Harry came down, trailed by Hermione and Ron. Hermione gave a weak smile to Summer, and they sat further down the table, far from Summer. Summer did her best to ignore them, rereading the grey book of medicinal potions. Chapters 13 through 17 dealt with burn and bruise-healing pastes, another product that Madam Pomfrey had been running low on. The ingredients were simple, as was the procedure, except for the exact timing (literally, in seconds) of addition of certain ingredients. The rest of the Gryffindors were content to leave Summer to her own devices.

Summer heard the approach of the morning owl post. She did not expect anything, as usual, but heard Hermione exclaim, and then continue in hushed tones with Ron and Harry. Summer finished, and closed her book in preparation to leave the Great Hall when a paper bird landed on her empty plate. It twittered, hopping up and down, until Summer picked it up and it unfolded itself. A message was written there, in a neat slanted hand.

_If the Gryffindors aren't making you feel welcome, there's always a place on the other side. Slytherins can learn to accept a mudblood, if she's clever enough._

Summer glanced up sharply, scanning the Slytherin table. Malfoy sat there, self-confident and smirking. Summer frowned and, pulling out a quill, leaned over the parchment to scribble a reply. If only he knew how true his insulting words were. _Clever mudbloods don't want any part of sneaking Slytherins. Gryffindors value honesty above all else. _She folded up the parchment into a paper airplane and stood from the table. Slinging her bag over one shoulder, she threw the airplane at Malfoy. It flew true and hit him on the head. He scowled and read her reply, looking up, but she was already gone for her Potions lesson.

Actually, Summer began to wonder at the fact that Malfoy had noticed her exclusion from the inner circle. And also, she wondered at Snape's defense of her last night. It seemed that Slytherins were not as bad as their reputation, and Gryffindors were brave and loyal only so far as their own were concerned. Having joined them in their sixth year, Summer supposed that she didn't qualify as a "true" Gryffindor. Would she have pulled out Godric's sword, if faced with a basilisk and wearing the Sorting Hat? Or would she have produced something else?

She shook these thoughts from her head as she entered the dungeon. "Good morning, Professor," she said, trying to be cheerful.

"You will begin with a Wit-Sharpening Potion, fourth year," said Snape. "Instructions are on the board," he waved his wand and they appeared there, "and you may begin. Inform me when you have finished."

Summer worked quietly and diligently for about an hour. As the potion simmered for ten minutes before she was to add the final ingredient, ground scarab beetle, she regarded Snape curiously. "Professor?" He looked up from his desk. Summer looked for appropriate words. "Why did you agree to Legilimency?"

"I suggest you add the beetle now, before your potion is ruined," he said coldly.

Summer complied silently. The potion turned the appropriate deep purple. Snape came and looked into her cauldron. He gave a nod of approval and asked her to begin the pastes for Madam Pomfrey. He stood watching over her shoulder for a few moments. He cleared his throat.

"Although the Dark Lord did originally recruit Death Eaters from the students of Hogwarts, he has not recently accepted any one who has not yet come of age. Children are of no use to him. I knew that you must not be serving him," the professor said quietly. "I discovered nothing in your mind that was unexpected, but Potter would not be satisfied until I told him. And, recalling his destruction of the Headmaster's office in the previous year, I was not willing to sacrifice my possessions."

"Hm," said Summer, thinking the explanation seemed incomplete. She wondered if he had hoped that she was on Voldemort's side, and whose side Snape was on. But before she had a chance to ask anything more, Snape pulled up his sleeve.

There, unmistakable, was the Dark Mark. "Sooner or later, Miss Granger, you would have asked me," he explained. "Yes, I was a Death Eater. Now, I serve Dumbledore. My loyalties have been questioned much the same way that Potter suspects you. I am not unsympathetic."

Summer stared at him, half-frightened, half-grateful. The only Death Eater in the school was also the only person that seemed to understand her predicament.

"Begin by adding powdered poppy root to bubotuber paste," said Snape, and produced a new set of instructions on the board. He returned to his desk.

Summer, reeling with new information, took a moment before beginning the next potion.


	11. Out of the Frying Pan

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Eleven: Out of the Frying Pan**

Frost had gripped the grounds of Hogwarts and brittle grass crunched under the boots of students. It was mid-November and they wore winter cloaks now, wrapped in scarves, hats, and gloves, walking quickly to their classes. The winter weather brought with it a mix of nervous and excited anticipation: the holidays were quickly approaching, but so were exams.

Inside the warmth of Greenhouse Four, sixth year Hufflepuffs and Gryffindors shed layers of clothing, and exchanged woolen gloves for ones made of dragon-hide.

"Good morning!" beamed Professor Sprout as the students arranged themselves by their workbenches. Hermione practically had to drag Summer to work with Ron and Harry. Several writhing plants were set in front of them, along with jars. "Today, we'll be working with the Screechsnaps you worked with last year. They've grown, as you can see. Mr. Filch will be requiring a few to plant along the border of the Forest, against wayward students. So!" Here she clapped her hands together enthusiastically. "You'll be cutting off young shoots from the base of the plant, and putting them in the provided jars. I'd like at least three per person by the end of the class."

They set to work, Hermione trying to engage them in mundane conversation to no avail. It was hard to talk anyways, once people began severing the small bright green limbs of the Screechsnaps. Injured, the plants began shrieking loudly, and writhing more fervently than before. The first shoot was the easiest to collect. One of the flailing arms whacked Harry, sending his glasses flying. As he bent to retrieve them, Hermione spoke close to Summer's ear.

"I've been trying to tell you for days, just listen to this: The day after his scar hurt in your tutoring, the _Daily Prophet_ ran an article about changes in the ministry. Lots of Death Eaters, like Dolohov, Yaxley, and Jugson, had been given really high positions in the Ministry. I can't imagine what they'll do, now that they're in the Department of Muggle Relations, and the Department of Justice. Anyway, that's what we think V-Voldemort was happy about."

Summer pulled at one of the thicker boughs that was trying to protect the small shoot she was after. "We, meaning you, or We, meaning Harry doesn't suspect me anymore?" Summer asked over the screeching plants.

Harry, by this time, had his glasses back on and listened to their conversation. "Hermione thinks so, and she's usually right," he said noncommittally. "Usually."

"Actually, she's always right, if you think about it," added Ron.

"Not helping," grunted Harry.

"I'm glad," continued Summer over the plants, "that you no longer suspect me of being evil. And it was so much work getting the timing right, so that my Death Eater friends were promoted at the exact same moment as I was practicing the Patronus Charm." She couldn't help taunting him.

"What? Are you admitting it now?" Harry challenged.

"I'll admit to what you accused me of the day that pigs fly," she snapped, getting angrier. He hadn't yet apologized.

"If you'd explain your behaviour, and what you're doing in the dungeons—,"

"Why should I explain anything to you? You don't believe me anyways!"

"Because of your sneaking about!"

"I'm NOT sneaking about, you're just paranoid!"

"Well if enemies are on the loose, YEAH!"

"And I'm NOT an enemy, so quit accusing me!"

"PUT A LID ON IT!"

This last yell came from the stout Professor Sprout. For a moment, Summer thought she was telling them to shut up, but then she realized that the professor was addressing the entire class. She was waving her arms and yelling at them, making gestures like smashing something down. Understanding hit Summer, she seized a lid and screwed it onto the jar. The motion was repeated throughout the classroom, and soon all that could be heard was the whimpering of the writhing plants. They wriggled pathetically now, while inside the jars the small shoots lay still and quiet.

"That will do for today, please leave the jars on my table to be collected."

They exited the greenhouse quickly, Summer slightly ahead of them, trying to make a quick escape. Her breath fogged in the cold air, and the first snowflakes of the season fell feebly onto the ground. Behind her, she heard Hermione calling for her to slow down, to talk to her.

Summer stopped for a moment and turned back to them. "I'm not talking until he apologizes." Then she stalked off again heading for Transfiguration, their next class.

The rest of the day passed silently and tensely between the trio and Summer. She felt as though the wall being built between them was almost tangible, and that Hermione was the only one with the patience to go constantly from one side to the other. After dinner, which Summer ate quickly, she left for the library to immerse herself in books. She couldn't ignore that December was looming ever closer, and that Harry had started setting her to do readings only during their tutoring sessions. A few times, he had outright cancelled them, saying he had Quidditch practice to go to. The excuses seemed flimsy, and Summer started relying on her own books and brain to tutor herself. Now, surrounded by books in a corner of the library, out of sight of most studying students, Summer drowned herself in History of Magic, forcing herself to stay awake and interested. Her eyes were closing on the Giant Revolution of 1347 when a voice jolted her awake.

"They only got riled up because of the invasion of fluorescent cave monkeys," said a dreamy voice. Luna was there, taking the book from Summer, flipping a few pages, and then discarding it as useless.

"Sorry, what?"

"The invasion of fluorescent cave monkeys," explained Luna calmly. "They didn't bother the giants so much during the day, but at night, the giants couldn't sleep with the glowing monkeys keeping them awake. So they got really cranky, and eventually sparked the revolution."

"Oh," said Summer, rubbing her tired eyes. It still didn't sound very interesting, just bizarre.

"Do you always study here?" asked Luna.

"No, sometimes I study in the common room," Summer replied. It seemed to her that the studying spaces at Hogwarts were rather limited.

"Try using the Room of Requirement if you can, it's really interesting! It makes a library with all sorts of books they don't have here." Luna paused and peered closely at Summer. "I thought I saw you at a D.A. meeting, but only once."

"Yeah. So?"

"Did Harry kick you out? He did that to a few Slytherins that tried to sneak in once," she said with brutal honesty.

"He might as well have, Luna. He hates me," Summer complained.

"Come with me, next time. I like having you there, it's like I have another friend!"

Summer shifted. This was awkward, but she felt the same as Luna did: another friend would be welcome anytime. "Sure, Luna. When's the next meeting?"

"We've already had three or four since you last came, but I think there's another one this Saturday at night." Suddenly Luna's face fell. "I think there won't be many more before Christmas though. Everyone's studying."

"Yeah, well, so should we," Summer reasoned.

Luna's face lit up. "Come on, I'll show you another place to study." Abandoning the books, they made their way through the castle, descending. While they chatted, Summer found out that Luna was actually quite amazing at Charms and Transfiguration. Apart from knowing a few very bizarre facts, Luna was smart and definitely deserved to be in Ravenclaw, regardless of whether or not she was 'loony'.

"Listen, Luna, I've been getting tutoring," Summer began, a little embarrassed. "And I need to know all of fourth year magic by the time our winter exams come around. Do you think you can help me study?" She held her breath waiting for the answer.

"How far have you gotten?"

"I've already read all the fourth year texts, I just need to practice some spells, especially Transfiguration," said Summer.

"Oh, it's easy! I'd be more worried about encountered a Crumple-Horned Snorkack," replied Luna. "Sure, I'll help. Anyway, here we are." With a flourish, she presented a very large still life that seemed completely bland.

"Where, exactly?" asked Summer. It seemed familiar, but she couldn't recall why. Until Luna reached up a hand, reaching for a particular fruit… "Tickle the pear," muttered Summer, realization striking. They were at the kitchens.

"Sorry?"

"Oh, I didn't say anything," Summer covered up and followed Luna through the door behind the painting. Her eyes grew wide as she took in the many small creatures running around, cleaning a great kitchen that mirrored the Great Hall above. The house elves paid them almost no attention, except for one who approached them.

"May I help you, misses?" squeaked the tiny elf. It's large, orangey eyes stared up at them, looking so liquidy that Summer thought maybe the elf was going to cry.

"Actually, I'd love a peanut butter and pickle sandwich, Tweezle," said Luna. "Want anything, Summer?"

Summer looked down into Tweezle's misshapen face. She felt guilty asking for anything from these tiny elves. "No, thanks." Tweezle bowed and disappeared, gone to fetch Luna's sandwich. "So, these are the kitchens?"

"Yeah, aren't they great?" Luna said, stars in her eyes. "The elves are really helpful, and love bringing you food to keep you going when you study. You just take a seat and tell them you're studying, and they don't bother you at all. But they do seem to have a knack for sensing your cravings. Ahh," said Luna as Tweezle approached again and took the sandwich from the elf. She made a noise of pleasure as she bit into it. "Delicious," she mumbled through her full mouth. "Thanks, Tweezle." Luna had a bit of pickle stuck between her teeth.

"What if you want to cook yourself?" asked Summer. They sat at the closest table, what would be Ravenclaw on the upper floor.

"I suppose they'd let you," said Luna between bites. "Never asked though."

Summer stifled a yawn. Almost immediately, Tweezle appeared at her elbow.

"Would Miss like coffee? Tea?"

"No, thank you," Summer started to say, but then called the elf back. "Yes, actually, a coffee would be wonderful." Moments later, as Luna finished chomping on her sandwich, Tweezle appeared with a large steaming cup of black coffee which Summer accepted gratefully.

"Luna, I think I'm going to go back to the common room, most of my books are there. But thanks for showing me this, it's wonderful," Summer said sincerely, cradling her cup.

"Oh, anytime," replied Luna. "What about your lessons?"

"How about before the D.A. meeting? In the Entrance Hall, after dinner."

"Sure! See you then!" With a cheery wave, they parted ways.

Sipping her hot coffee cautiously, Summer wandered through the halls. Rather than getting lost on her way by accident, now she felt like getting lost on purpose. The corridors were drafty and night had fallen outside. She headed upwards through the castle. Summer paused at a few paintings, to examine their live subjects. Twice she was certain that she had made a loop, only to find herself in a new hall. She found a room, ordinary enough, only that you entered it on the sixth floor, and exited at a new spot every time you tried to leave. In the dungeons, she found a dark tapestry depicting a snake-infested lake. Voices could be heard from behind it. Thinking it must be the Slytherin common room, and not in any hurry to confirm that, Summer retraced her steps and made her way back to Gryffindor Tower. She left her empty coffee mug on a banister where, after a moment, it disappeared, presumably reappearing in the kitchens.

When she entered the common room, close to midnight, she found it seemingly deserted. The fire burned low in the grate and Summer paused by it on her way up to bed, staring at the flames.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever get back," said a voice from a nearby chair, and suddenly an Invisibility Cloak was drawn away to reveal Harry, getting up.

Summer was uncertain of what to do. During their last conversation, they'd been yelling so loudly that people could hear them over Screechsnaps. "Well, here I am," she said finally.

"Look, I… I've been to see Dumbledore," began Harry. "He heard about the Death Eaters in the Ministry of Magic, and when I told him about by scar hurting, he said that's probably the reason why. He also said that even though Voldemort infiltrated the Ministry, Dumbledore would know right away if he'd managed to get into Hogwarts. And I reckon he's right. Dumbledore's smart like that."

"So you're saying…?"

"I'm saying you're right, Hermione's right, Snape's right, and I'm paranoid. I'm sorry." He looked highly reluctant to have admitted it.

Summer regarded him coolly. "Spoke to Hermione too, didn't you?"

Harry nodded.

"Hmph." So, then, it was clear that Harry hadn't willingly admitted his faults or willingly apologized to Summer. Nevertheless, the fact that he had waited for her and spoken to her meant a lot. Actually, what it probably meant was that Hermione had threatened him very strongly. Either way, it worked. An apology was an apology. "Alright," said Summer, and moved to ascend the stairs.

"Alright?" repeated Harry.

"Yes. Goodnight. And don't forget we have tutoring tomorrow." Summer marched up the stairs, feeling emotionally exhausted. As much as she appreciated Hermione's strong hand in this situation, Summer thought it might be time for her to start fighting her own battles. If Hermione began interfering in other areas, Summer would say something. For now, she acted as a wonderful buffer between the two precarious tempers of Harry and Summer.

"Hey," whispered Summer, coming up to Hermione's bed. She put a hand on the other girl's shoulder.

"Hmm?" she murmured sleepily.

"Thanks"

* * *

BANG!

A desk flew halfway across the empty classroom that had become Summer's training ground. But, before the desk could be successfully Summoned, it slammed into the other desks, creating an awful ruckus and a mess. With a scraping sound, the shrapnel righted itself and reassumed normal position.

"You're getting really good at 'Reparo'," said Luna cheerfully. It was Saturday and the two girls were wasting the hour or so before the D.A. meeting with tutoring. Really, it was more like target practice, or a disaster zone where the desks had been terrorized and reformed over and over.

"Here, let me show you again. _Accio desk!"_ Luna spoke loudly and clearly, and a desk from the back of the class zoomed forward and landed dutifully before Luna.

Summer sighed, straightened herself and held her wand aloft. "_Accio desk!_" Another desk flew forward, but wobbled uncertainly and ended up perching atop the grounded desks. Summer huffed and puffed and resigned herself, "Luna, it's useless. Let's give up."

"Alright."

"Really?" Summer was shocked. She hadn't expected Luna to give in so easily. Harry usually made her work the spells several times, like a drill sergeant.

"Sure," replied Luna, cheerfully flicking her wand and changing her desk into a large purple cushion that she sat on. "Why don't we do Transfiguration instead?"

Summer repressed a groan. "Okay. I know I'll be tested on transforming inanimate objects into living ones, and probably cross-species transfigurations too. What should we start with?"

"Change that desk," Luna said, pointing to Summer's failed attempt at the Summoning Charm, "into a chair."

"A chair? What kind of chair?"

"Just a desk chair."

"That's it?"

Luna gave Summer a pointed look, making her appear unusually sharp. "If you can't Summon a desk, we shouldn't presume that you can transfigure it. So we start small: wood to wood. I wouldn't want to hurt it, you know."

"Hurt it?" Summer repeated dumbly.

"What if you transfigure it only halfway into an iguana, for instance? That would be pretty painful for the desk," Luna stated matter-of-factly.

Summer resisted the temptation to point out that it was, in fact, only a desk, incapable of feeling pain, but in the end followed Luna's instructions. The desk successfully turned into a chair, and then into a treasure chest, then a potted lemon tree, and finally into a porcupine. Admittedly, the porcupine had splinters instead of needles, but it was so much better than Summer's Charm work, that the girls decided to finish on this high note and head to the Room of Requirement.

"I think it won't be so bad, my extra exam," Summer said as she stowed her wand away. "You've really been a great help, Luna."

"I hope so. If you did your exam as well as at the beginning of today's practice, you'd probably fail," she answered with brutal honesty.

"Thanks, Luna." Summer rolled her eyes. "Anyway, if there is another D.A. meeting before Christmas, do you think you could help me a bit more?"

"Again? So I wasn't awful?"

"What? No, Luna, you were brilliant!" Summer reassured her, making Luna glow and walk with a bit more spring. Luna, pleased to be complemented, was practically bouncing. Summer fought back an urge to giggle, but instead let a wide grin spread across her face. She was still grinning when they entered the Room of Requirement. Luna bid her goodbye and went to talk with Neville. Summer took a seat, as before, towards the back of the room.

"You've missed a lot of meetings."

Summer looked up. "Hi Nel, how've you been?"

"Alright. Show me your Disillusionment Charm," the younger girl commanded. Summer complied and the Ravenclaw girl disappeared. "Not bad," said her voice. Summer removed the spell. "You've been practicing?"

"All the time," replied Summer, feeling a bit unhappy about it. "I've got a lot to learn, you know?"

"We all do. That's why we're here," Nel said wisely.

Summer made a noncommittal sound. Was that really why she was here? To learn? Surely she would learn just as well from her books, from her tutoring with Harry, from Luna and from Hermione. No, Summer was not here to learn. She thought, maybe, that all of Hermione's efforts to pull Summer into their inner circle had started rubbing off on her. She felt an obligation to at least try to be nicer to Harry. He had apologized, because of Hermione, and still helped her with magic. Summer owed it to Hermione, if not to anyone else.

At that thought, Summer's intestines seemed to squirm uneasily. As much as she appreciated her cousin's help, it was getting tiring to be babied by some one her own age. Hermione could not know, as she smiled at Summer across the room, the thoughts that were passing through her head. It was time, finally, for Summer Granger to stand on her own two feet as a witch.


	12. Into The Fire

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Twelve: Into The Fire**

"Hermione."

At the sound of her name, the bushy-haired brunette stopped to find the source.

Summer, just rushing up the stairs into the Entrance Hall, felt triumphant. For several days now she had been trying to find an opportune moment to talk to Hermione. Now, here it was. The Entrance Hall was fairly empty since most students were already inside eating dinner. Hermione was alone, rather than with Ron or Harry. Summer felt freedom and success within her grasp.

"We need to talk," she said assertively.

"Here? Now? Is it something serious?" Hermione asked and looked about as though checking for eavesdroppers.

"Yes, yes, and not life-threatening," replied Summer. "You've really taken me under you wing since I've come here--,"

"Oh, Summer, really, as if I'd do anything else! You're family, after all--,"

"Yes, I know, but that's rather the problem," Summer said quickly, before they got off track. "I really do appreciate all the help you've given me, and the support. I can't tell you how good it is to know that someone's behind me and believing me. I know you must have stood up to Harry a few times because of me, and that can't have been easy." Hermione again looked like she was about to argue something, but Summer rolled on. "I do, really, appreciate it. Thank you. But I'd feel much better if Harry was being civil towards me because of something I did. I'd feel better about a lot of things if I was responsible for them."

"So…" Hermione trailed uncertainly.

"Let me fight my own battles from now on. I need some independence. This bird is flying from the coop," concluded Summer, making a motion with one hand to symbolize her flight.

"You really like aviary idioms, don't you?" Hermione asked.

"Wait until you hear my oceanic ones," replied Summer swiftly. "So you're okay with this?" Hermione shrugged. "Obviously, I mean, I don't want to be cut off completely from you. Just don't be so motherly, please."

Hermione laughed. "I'll try not to."

"Good!" exclaimed Summer, taking Hermione's arm and steering the two of them into the Great Hall. "Now, on the topic of mothers, what am I going to do for Christmas?"

"There's still a Hogsmeade weekend before the break, you could buy your mum something there," suggested Hermione.

"Not for gifts! I mean, am I supposed to go visit my parents, or make them come here? Or just not go home and not have them visit? Is that rude? What do you usually do?"

Hermione looked a little bewildered by the volley of questions. They sank down into seats at the end of Gryffindor table; everywhere closer to Harry and Ron was, fortunately or unfortunately, full. "I usually go home. Can't you just take the train like everyone else?"

"I would, but it just seems like a really pointlessly long journey for such a short stay. After a day on the train I'd have to take a flight, too." Summer chewed her potatoes thoughtfully. "Do Portkeys work overseas?"

"Oh that's right! I keep forgetting you're from America," Hermione said. "How strange that my family moved so far!"

"Er… yeah," Summer said, anxious to stuff her mouth full of food. She still felt guilty about 'lying', even though it was true. "Well, you know, immigration," she said, as though it explained everything.

"I'll ask Professor Dumbledore about it later this evening. I've got to go talk to him anyways… I think somebody has been using one of the suits of armor on the third floor as a repository for banned goods from Weasley's Wizarding Wheezes. Mrs. Norris was sniffing around there yesterday…"

Hermione trailed off into her story. Summer sat through the rest of dinner with a small smile on her face. One victory had been assured, and after dinner she would have tutoring with Harry. Then, another victory might come of it. And tomorrow, Saturday, she would have Potions lessons with Snape, which was entirely tolerable. Summer felt like she had taken a step in the right direction and was finally in control of her life.

The classroom, which was starting to feel like Summer's second home, was empty when she arrived for tutoring. But she didn't have to wait long; within five minutes Harry came in and attempted a very forced smile. It was more like a twitch or a grimace. Wanting to get straight to the point, Summer skipped polite greetings.

"Harry, are you being civil to me because Hermione told you to?"

"What?" he spluttered, surprised by the question.

"Because if you are, you can stop right now," Summer said, crossing her arms.

Harry rubbed his brow guiltily. "Well… yeah, I was," he admitted. "For the few weeks when I was really suspicious of you, Hermione was always telling me to be logical and all that. But after that article in the _Prophet_, I knew that I had bigger things to worry about." He wearily leaned against a desk. "You were right."

"I was?" Summer asked. Now she had lost his train of thought and was confused.

"Yeah, with what you said in Herbology two weeks ago… I really am paranoid."

"You sort of have a right to be; people want to kill you," she pointed out.

"True. Anyway, I think by now I owe it to you to be honest. Hermione forced me to be nice to you, and it was really hard. But now, the idea that you're a spy seems so ridiculous. So it's easier to get along with you." Here he paused and it looked as though the next words really came as a struggle. "Sorry."

Summer was pleasantly surprised to find that her second confrontation of the day had gone quickly and well. She grinned. "Okay. Now, for Defense Against the Dark Arts, I've been wondering about Hex Deflection," she said, switching topics at lightning speed. "The reading didn't explain whether you would need to use a separate block for each hex, or whether a general Protego Charm would be sufficient."

Harry began explaining the advantages of either method, demonstrating various shields that could be used. Summer repeated the exercises duly, but it was obvious that during the weeks of reading books, her spellwork had suffered. She knew the theory very well, but needed to try each spell a few times before getting it right. Her Patronus Charm was still smoky, but thankfully that was not considered as a requirement by fourth year. Luckily, they spent most of the time on D.A.D.A. topics, and never addressed Charms. Summer was still unable to properly Summon anything, and wanted to spend a few hours practicing with a feather so that it wouldn't be embarrassing when Harry asked her to perform it.

Their lesson was winding down, the both of them sitting on desks. Harry was quizzing Summer on various Dark creatures and she swung her legs, finding that the answers came quickly. All her reading was paying off, at least.

"… and that's why I'd much rather encounter a hinkypunk than a Red Cap, if I could help it," she finished.

"Fair point," replied Harry, getting to his feet. "What if you had to choose between a hinkypunk and a…"

Summer, already picking up her bags to leave, looked up when Harry failed to finish his sentence. He had a vacant expression on his face and stood frozen, with his hand halfway to a roll of parchment he had been putting away.

"Harry?"

He shook himself. "Sorry," he mumbled and rubbed his scar.

"You okay?" she asked, tentatively. She was unsure of just how much he trusted her, and didn't want to cross any boundaries.

"Yeah, fine… just got a headache," he said dismissively. "Right. Would you rather confront a hinkypunk or a grindylow?"

"Well," Summer began, shouldering her bag. "I'd have to say I'm impartial, and I'd probably not want to encounter either…" She trailed off. She had been heading for the door of the class but stopped when she noticed that Harry wasn't behind her. Summer turned and again saw the same vacant expression in Harry's eyes, although he was frowning as though in pain.

"Are you sure you're alright?" she asked again, coming closer to him. He hadn't moved but now the eyes seemed livelier, red and gleaming. "Harry?" Summer ventured closer and put a hand out to him. Now the features of his faced shifted into an expression of curiosity with a malevolent intent. Feeling that something now was certainly not right, Summer had an urge to shake Harry out of his state. The redness of his eyes made her pause, though, and just touch his arm lightly. At her touch, Harry gave a moan of pain, his eyes rolled backwards into his head, all hint of red gone, and collapsed.

* * *

Miles away, Voldemort opened his snake-like eyes and hissed in pleasure. The concern on the girl's face implied that he had just discovered a new weapon against Potter. How these fools never realize how much harm comes from love! Voldemort gave a cold laugh: when the war came to Hogwarts, they would see how it hurts to love.

"Lucius," he hissed.

A man moved forward from the shadows, his blonde hair gleaming in the low firelight. "Yes, My Lord."

"Write to your son…"

* * *

"Harry!" Summer shrieked, grabbing his arms and, being unable to support his weight, brought the two of them crashing to the floor. She dropped her bag and kneeled by his unconscious form. He didn't reply but she was certain he was still breathing, just knocked out. Her pulse threatened to race, but she forced the panic away. Clearly, whatever danger there had been was now gone. Taking a deep breath, she steadied her hands, then unclasped her bag. Pulling out a quill and parchment, she quickly scribbled a note.

_Harry has collapsed during lesson. Taking him to Hospital Wing. Meet me there. It might be a good idea to bring Dumbledore, he'll know what to do. –Summer_

She folded the parchment into a plane and tapped it with her wand. "Go quickly, and open only for Ron or Hermione," she said to it, and it zoomed off. She didn't know if an inanimate piece of paper would understand, but it seemed to work alright. Next, she performed a Shrinking Charm on their belongings, tucking them into her pocket, and then put a Hover Charm on Harry, levitating him through the door and into the hallway. They were lucky not to encounter anyone on their way to the Hospital Wing.

"What's happened?" asked Madam Pomfrey briskly as Summer let Harry down onto a bed.

"I don't know, he's just collapsed," said Summer, sinking into the chair by Harry's bed. She barely had time to sit properly before Dumbledore strode into the room, Hermione and Ron trailing behind him.

"Madam Pomfrey, Miss Granger. What has happened?" Dumbledore asked and came to stand by Harry's side.

Summer rubbed her eyes. What exactly had happened? "We were almost done for today, but Harry seemed to be getting more and more distracted. I thought maybe he was just getting tired. Anyway," she sighed. "He froze for a minute. He didn't answer when I called his name. He looked like he was in pain though, or struggling. His eyes…" she swallowed nervously, certain that she was about to sound like a lunatic, "his eyes were… reddish. And … menacing?"

"Is that a question or a description?" asked the headmaster.

"A description… they were definitely menacing," asserted Summer. The words came easier now. "It wasn't like Harry at all… I mean, I don't know him very well, but it didn't _feel_ like it was him, you know?"

Dumbledore hmmed and ahhed and eventually gestured for Madam Pomfrey, who had been flitting nervously on the edge of their circle, to come closer. "I think, Poppy, that all Mr. Potter will need is an Invigorating Draught," he said.

"That's it?" exclaimed Ron. Hermione hit his arm for second-guessing the headmaster.

"Yes, Mr. Weasley, I rather think he hasn't sustained any worse damage," said Dumbledore serenely. "Coincidentally, on what did Mr. Potter fall, Miss Granger?"

"The floor," replied Summer. "He didn't hit his head or anything. And by that time I was worried, so I'd come closer. When he blacked out, I sort of caught him and slowed the fall. He shouldn't be hurt."

"Very good. Then the only damage left to heal will be in Harry's mind."

"What? Why? He hasn't gone loony, has he?" demanded Ron, earning another physical reprimand from Hermione, in the form of a stomp on his foot.

Dumbledore, exhibiting infinite patience, calmly explained himself to Ron. "It is my belief that Harry has just suffered an invasion of the mind. You know, of course, of Harry's Occlumency lessons last year?" Hermione and Ron nodded. "It was to guard against exactly this. I believe Lord Voldemort gained access and saw through Harry's eyes. That would be why you saw them as red." Summer nodded. "Now, once Harry awakes, I am certain he will confirm Miss Granger's account of the events. Then we may assess whether last year's lessons did Harry any good, or whether he will need further medical aid to heal his mind." Madam Pomfrey stood at Dumbledore's left and cleared her throat. "Ah, yes! The potion! Go ahead, Poppy."

Madam Pomfrey moved to Harry, a small dose in hand.

"Professor, can I go now?" asked Summer, before the nurse could administer the medicine. Dumbledore looked surprised, but nodded. She got up to leave, instinctively reaching for her bag, before remembering that she had shrunken it. She reached into her pocket, removed Harry's stuff, and returned it to its natural size. Placing it on the chair she had just vacated, Summer left the room. This seemed a moment too personal to witness: although they may have come to an understanding, Summer still felt that she didn't have a place in their inner circle.

The next morning, as part of the usual Saturday routine, Summer was at breakfast earlier than the rest of them. She was surprised to see that Harry was with them, and even more shocked that he led the trio to sit next to Summer. At that moment, the morning post also arrived. Summer noticed a particularly dark owl swoop over to the Slytherin table and drop a letter before Malfoy. Another owl distracted her, landing on her plate with Hermione's copy of the newspaper.

"Other Granger," she mumbled, and gave it a little push in Hermione's direction. Hermione buried herself in the Saturday edition of the _Daily Prophet_ while the boys dug heartily into breakfast.

"Hi," said Harry, between mouthfuls.

"Hello," replied Summer. There was an awkward pause. "So you're alright then?"

Harry gave a terse nod. "I'm okay."

"That's good," said Summer. She preferred yelling at him rather than this strangely stiff conversation. "Nice day."

"Yeah."

Ron, sensing the uncomfortable atmosphere, jumped in. "So, anyone we know dead?" he loudly asked Hermione.

"No, but the people at the Ministry are doing some awful things. The Department of Transportation is introducing Priority-Only Portkey travel, and special licenses for using the Floo."

Summer's ears perked up. She remembered her plan of using a portkey to get home for Christmas. "Can I see that?" she asked and Hermione handed over the paper. As she began to scan the article, she asked, "Did you talk to Dumbledore about portkeys, by the way?"

"I didn't get a chance to, but now I'm sure it's impossible," replied Hermione. "I'm surprised the Ministry is still letting us take the train home."

"Well, it's not magical, is it?" Ron added.

"No, but still, it's dangerous to travel in these times," mused Hermione.

Summer gasped, and her fork clattered from her limp fingers onto her plate. She put her free hand to her mouth and re-read the paragraph.

_Albert Cooper, 19, was an employee of the Floo Network. "You never know when they'll go bad," commented Cyprian Yaxley, Head of the Department of Transportation. "Cooper was a loose cannon. He always had a rebellious streak, and we're not surprised that he disobeyed the new laws." Cooper had attempted to floo home late yesterday evening and was caught in the very real and very hot fire, and as a result was burned to death. _

_Ministry officials say it is all a part of their new plan to enforce security. They insist that harsh punishment for law-breakers is the best way to ensure safety for all. _

The article continued on to detail punishments for violating other Transportation Laws.

"I know, it's awful, isn't it?" sympathized Hermione.

Summer nodded, tears springing to her eyes. "I can't believe it… Al was always too righteous for his own good."

"Al?" echoed Ron. Summer passed him the article. "You knew this guy?"

"Yeah, we played together when we were kids. He loved to invent stories about castles and dragons and wizards, and we would play make-believe all day. We were really good friends, but then his family had to move away when I was eight…" Realization dawned on Summer. "He would have been eleven at that time." Her eyes widened in shock. "He must've been coming here, to Hogwarts! That's how he ended up working for the Floo."

"Oh, Summer, I'm so sorry," Hermione said softly.

"Yeah, that must be tough," said Ron.

"It's just a bit of a shock, that's all," replied Summer, trying to shake off too much emotion.

"This is a war, people are going to die. He's not the first, and not the last," Harry added callously. He said it in such a cold tone, with so little feeling, that all three of them turned their heads to stare at him in shock. There was a heavy and awkward pause.

"I'll see you later," Summer said, just as coldly, and picked up her bag without meeting any of their gazes.

"Summer, wait--," began Hermione.

"I'll be late for Potions," Summer cut in, and walked briskly away. Her thoughts were all rumbling as she thought of the hellish past 24 hours. It had been going so well, but had gotten ruined quickly. 'Ghosts from the past' was now not merely an expression. Harry was being snappish again. But what really irked her most was that she would be unable to go home for Christmas. Summer felt like all ties to her 'normal' life were being stretched thin like bubble gum, and would eventually be so weak that a light breeze would break it apart.

She entered the Potions dungeon without her usual cheery greeting, but simply set down her bag and got immediately to work. Snape had set her instructions for the Draught of Peace, an O.W.L. potion. She was tempted to laugh at the coincidence. She was anything but peaceful, and several times Summer had to reread the instructions and correct her mistakes. In her mind, letters to her mother kept running by.

_Dear Mum, remember Al? Well, he died when traveling, and security's high so I won't make it home for Christmas for the first time in my life. By the way, how is Aunt Susie?_

_Dear Mum, traveling may result in death so I won't be home for Christmas…_

_Dear Mum, there's a war going on and people are dying. I'd rather not travel._

_Dear Mum, why don't you come visit me for Christmas? I swear, I'll do my best to keep you safe from Death Eaters and Voldemort. They're the bad guys over here, and are trying to kill one of my classmates. You may know him: Harry Potter._

_Dear Mum, _

"Granger, that's five times as much powdered moonstone as is required," snapped Snape. Summer looked down at her potion. It was not going well: the Draught of Peace had been reduced to a thick, tar-like substance. "Give it to me," he ordered, and she didn't hesitate to make room for the professor before the cauldron. As he began adding ingredients and mixing frequently in an attempt to salvage the potion, Summer sat heavily on a stool.

"Professor, may I be excused?" she asked after a few silent minutes.

"I admit you seem to be unfocussed today, and your potion is suffering for it."

"Sorry," she mumbled. How could it be so early in the day, and she be already so exhausted? "So is that a yes?"

There was a long pause and Summer wondered if she should repeat her question. Finally, Snape said, "Wait a few moments." He added more hellebore syrup to the concoction and let it simmer. Then he added the final ingredients, lavender and a sprinkle of powdered unicorn horn, and the potion turned a perfect sky blue. Snape conjured a goblet and scooped some of the potion into it. "Drink," he said simply, holding the goblet out to Summer.

She was beyond caring or worrying: Hermione would berate her for drinking a potion given to her by Snape. But Summer had watched him transform her botched work into a salvaged Draught of Peace and had faith. She drained the cup and handed it back to Snape. Almost immediately, she felt like a sleeping dragon had gotten off of her shoulders and let her breathe freely. As the potion did its job, she felt the tension drain away.

"You may go. Take Gilbert's _Thoughts on Theory of Expert Potion-Making_, you'll need to study it carefully. It is in the far bookcase." Summer found the required book and stowed it in her bag. "Next week's lesson will be doubly long."

"Yes, sir," replied Summer. She made no other comment: next Saturday was the first weekend of December, and also the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas. But she didn't complain, knowing that she was lucky Snape was allowing her to leave early. She walked the halls, thinking she needed a quiet place to let her mind wander far from grim thoughts. Feeling a bit cheered by this aspect, and also feeling the effects of the Draught of Peace, Summer headed for the Room of Requirement, confident that it would turn into a perfect haven.

She entered the Room, finding it pleasantly furnished, with rich wood paneling and bookcases, as well as several large and comfortable-looking chairs arranged around a fireplace. Heaving a great sigh, she dropped into a chair close to the fire. A movement across from her made Summer jump up quickly again.

"We ought to talk." Malfoy sat in a chair, looking a bit disgruntled to have been disturbed, but also relieved.

"Oh, it's you," Summer said in relief and sank back into her chair, putting her legs across one arm.

"My father sent me a letter," he began.

"Can we not talk, and just be quiet?" Summer replied. She had an inkling that this was not going to go well. It was a recent trend.

"My father never writes letters," Draco continued mercilessly. "He asked about you."

"Me?" Summer's interest was piqued.

"You were there when Potter collapsed, right?" Summer nodded. "Then yes, about you."

"How did you know about that anyway?" she asked.

"Word gets around. But," he narrowed his eyes dangerously, "usually it doesn't result in the Dark Lord asking for information about new students."

"What?!" spluttered Summer.

"The letter was very precise. Find out about the girl, and send the details back. What I want to know is… why? Who are you, that the Dark Lord takes such an interest in you?" He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees.

"I'm no one… I'm just a regular girl," Summer replied blankly.

"Are you really?"

This, Summer thought, sounded strikingly like a suspicion. Not willing to have another argument or emotional rollercoaster ride today, Summer leaned her head back on the unoccupied arm of her chair. Closing her eyes, she replied, "Why don't you think about that, and I'll not think at all."

She heard a creak of springs as Draco, too, leaned back in his chair. They sat in silence.


	13. The Smoking Pot

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Thirteen: The Smoking Pot**

A somber mood had settled over Hogwarts Castle. The clouds hung low and grey, and Christmas cheer was diffused by the students' fear of traveling. Nevertheless, on the first of December, boughs of holly appeared, decorating the banisters, and the suits of armor were freshly polished. A fine dusting of snow lay on the ground, and despite the grim news coming in the _Daily Prophet_, everyone had a bit of excitement in them.

"What about this one?" Hermione asked, pointing to a picture of a smiling witch wearing a beautiful brooch, claiming to attract prosperity and good fortune. She and Summer were looking through glossy catalogues of the shops in Hogsmeade, trying to pick out Christmas gifts.

Summer looked over from her seat on the window sill. "No, it's really pretty, but it's no good. My sister does karate, she's a tomboy. She won't like jewelry. Besides, I don't think she knows I'm at Hogwarts. I don't know if my parents told her I was a witch," she explained.

"Oh, that's too bad," said Hermione, continuing to flip pages. "How are you so sure your sister isn't a witch, too?"

Summer laughed. "Martha? A witch?" she scoffed. "My sister wouldn't know magic if it came up and bit her on the nose. She's got no sense for this type of thing." She sighed, finding her catalogue of sweets from Honeydukes also inappropriate. "I think it's best to stick with mugglish presents for now. Maybe Zonko's has some muggle card tricks…"

"Oooh, no, get this!" Hermione exclaimed eagerly. She had picked up a new magazine of paper supplies and had the page open on a magnificent quill, black with a few thin bright yellow feathers near the end.

"It's great," Summer said. "What bird is it from?"

"A Highland Ward Eagle, they're really rare."

"It doesn't do anything magical, does it?" Summer asked, worried.

Hermione looked closely at the fine print. "It has an Ever-Sharp spell on the nib, but the feather itself should be okay. I know the birds are supposed to be a symbol of protection, but I don't expect it would manifest any physical effects."

Summer breathed a sigh of relief. "Perfect. I think my dad will love it, he's an author. He'd be thrilled to write with a quill."

Ron, who was working on a Herbology essay with Harry at the closest table, popped his head up. "An author? I thought you said he was an I See Agent?"

Summer was confused for a moment and then blushed deeply. "A CIA agent, Ron," she corrected, remembering her story. "But he's done with that now: it was a dangerous career, so he decided to become an author instead."

"What does he write?" asked Hermione.

"Children's books," Summer blurted. It was the first thing that had come to mind, and it was totally incongruous. But Hermione didn't seem to find it too strange and went back to flipping pages. Eventually, they picked out the quill for Summer's father, a Himalayan tea from Madam Puddifoot's for Summer's mother, and a book on muggle illusions and sleight-of-hand for Summer's sister. Hermione promised to make the purchases and bring them back for Summer.

"It really is unfair that you have to miss the last Hogsmeade weekend before Christmas. The village looks like a postcard when there's snow!"

"Yeah, and you can have great snowball fights," said Ron, imagining it already.

"Don't get any ideas, Ronald," scolded Hermione.

"I don't mind, really," said Summer. "Obviously by now I'm used to a six-day school week. Besides, Snape let me go early last time, I owe it to him."

"No one could ever owe Snape anything," spat Harry. "He's a slimy, two-faced git who'll get what's coming to him." A spare bit of parchment was unfortunate to be below Harry's hand, and got crumpled into a ball as a result of his anger.

"Harry," Hermione reprimanded lightly.

Summer bit her tongue to avoid defending Snape, who was actually quite decent, she thought. He was a fair marker and had really helped her nurture her skill in Potions. But, she knew, if she pointed this out to Harry, the only result would be a fierce argument. He had been snapping out more frequently since Voldemort's foray into his mind. Dumbledore assured them that it was a normal side-effect and would ebb away eventually. Ron, surprisingly, had turned out to be rather good at turning Harry's awkward bursts of anger into funny moments.

"I wonder if the grease dripping from his hair ever ruins his Potions," Ron mused. Hermione cracked a smile and Harry relaxed.

"Have you finished your essays yet?" Hermione asked the boys.

"Almost," Ron replied. "Why do you want us to finish them now, anyways? They aren't due until tomorrow."

"Yes, Ron, and it's eight in the evening already!"

"What's your point?"

"I think Hermione means that if you want your essay edited, you'd better give it to her quick because she doesn't want to stay up until one a.m. again, trying to decipher your awful handwriting," said Summer grinning, and quickly swung her foot up onto the windowsill to avoid Hermione's incoming light punch.

"Summer!"

"What?" she asked innocently. Summer had repeated almost word for word the complaints of Hermione this morning, when worrying about the Herbology assignment.

"Just for that, I'm going to make you read one of their essays, too!" Hermione declared, crossing her arms.

"Ugh, no thank you!" replied Summer. She searched her mind for a way to make an escape.

At that moment, two first years came in through the portrait hole, and a paper-made bird flew in after them. It hovered uncertainly in the air for a moment, and then landed in Summer's lap. Bewildered, she unfolded it. The bird was something she immediately associated with Draco, and when she saw the hand it was written in, she knew her guess to be correct.

_I thought that if the Dark Lord is going to find out about you, you might as well know what he knows. This is what I'm sending to my father as a reply…_

Summer folded it quickly again, wanting to read the rest out of sight of prying eyes. "I'll see you later," she said, and left the three of them looking puzzled. She thought of where she could go: the Room of Requirement was too far, the bailey outside was probably full of people playing in the snow, and her tutoring classroom was… perfect. Within a few minutes, she was there, lighting her wand tip and scanning the rest of Draco's letter.

_Summer Granger is a mudblood, cousin to Hermione Granger, one of Potter's sidekicks since first year. She only started at Hogwarts this year, and has been struggling with learning magic. She spends lots of time with Potter outside of class. She also takes Remedial Potions due to her lack of skill in that area, so Professor Snape is probably keeping an eye on her as well. There is nothing more, father, to this despicable mudblood. Since arriving, she has not displayed any remarkable magical skill. Her only importance to the Dark Lord is as a rather close friend of Potter's._

Well, in the end, Summer had expected much worse. She was only referred to as a mudblood twice, and the whole letter sounded bizarre to her. It was either full of fake emotions and information, or Draco had deeply convinced her that she was tolerable. Summer preferred to think the former, considering that if Draco really thought mudbloods were despicable, he hardly would have tolerated talking to her. She was glad, also, to have left the common room to read the letter. If Ron had snatched it out of her hands to entertain himself, or worse, if Harry had taken the letter in a bout of anger, then she did not know what accusations would follow. She hadn't told anyone about the letter Lucius Malfoy had sent inquiring about her. She preferred to keep her secrets, if she could. In any case, the description of Summer Granger was bland enough that Voldemort surely would lose interest in her.

She reread the letter. Feeling slightly irked at being called unremarkable, she conjured a feather, and place it at the far end of the classroom. For the next few hours, Summer persisted in attempting to Summon the feather, but at each subsequent _accio_, the feather looked less and less inclined to come to her end of the room. Finally, when all the feather did was hover feebly six inches above the desk, Summer gave up. She returned quietly to her dorm, pleased to see that Hermione and Ron and Harry's essays were all gone.

The next morning, many students were suppressing yawns in Herbology. Clearly, not everyone had been ahead of the game, like Hermione. Professor Sprout was trying valiantly to lecture them on the proper care of carnivorous plants. Some students had outright nodded off, some had glazed eyes, but the bench closest to the professor was quite well rested: this was where Hermione was seated, with Summer, Ron, and Harry, along with Neville (who had finished his essay eagerly) and Lavender. Halfway through the class, Seamus began snoring.

At that point, Professor Sprout huffed and put her hands on her hips. "I thought this was a rather interesting subject, but you all seem to be doing fine without it. Very well! But this material is still on the exam." That final word caught the attention of those who were daydreaming. "Hand in your essays before you leave," the professor grumbled.

Now, everyone was awake. The prospect of getting out of class half an hour early was enough to combat the effects of fatigue. Suddenly infused with wakefulness, everyone clamored to get out of the greenhouse, leaving an untidy pile of parchment behind. Summer was among the first to leave and began heading briskly towards the castle, and the library beyond. Everyday brought her closer to the extra exam, and although she did not want to admit it, her nerves made her spend every spare moment in the library double-checking her information.

She hurried as silently as possible through the aisles of books, searching for the right section on creatures associated with the Dark Arts. She turned finally into the right aisle, not looking on where she was going but focused on the spines of the many books. Preoccupied as she was, Summer walked straight into someone else who also had their nose in a book.

"Watch it!" growled the person.

Summer looked up from the floor, where she was bent to pick up a fallen book. "Oh, sorry, Draco," she apologized.

"Try keeping your eyes open next time, mudblood," he spat, and stalked off angrily.

Certainly just a bump couldn't have put him in such a foul mood, Summer wondered. Maybe he had sent the letter and somehow received a bad reply. Or maybe it was something worse… maybe Malfoy also had something go wrong, like the death of a childhood friend or cancelled Christmas plans. With another 15 minutes to spare, Summer made a split second decision and dashed after him, careful not to be seen.

Malfoy had left the library alone and without any books, turning left towards a staircase heading up. Summer hesitated a moment, wondering if he would notice her, but a class was let out further down the corridor and students began dispersing, some coming towards the stair. They would disguise her sound. She hurried up after him to the sixth floor. It was empty. Summer looked up at the stairs leading to the seventh floor. Empty. He must be here. She began putting her ear to every door, listening for a sound. Something about his behaviour had bothered her too much to let this slide, and her curiousity demanded to be satisfied.

Finally, there was only one door left to be checked. Summer paused outside this one. It was half-hidden in the shadow of a large bust of some famous wizard with flowing hair and a flamboyant moustache. She knew this room from her wanderings of the castle, and wondered if Draco had also discovered its uncanny ability. This was the room that could be entered on the sixth floor, but exited in a different area of the castle every time. As far as Summer knew, there was no way to control where it would open. She glanced quickly at her watch. Barely three minutes to her next class. She pressed her ear to the door. Muffled thumps and swearing could be heard, then something that sounded like an incantation. Summer heard an unidentifiable noise and a strangled cry. Worried, she tried the doorknob. It was locked and she debated the option of alohomora. How would Malfoy react? Badly, she was sure, but that cry hadn't sounded good, much less human.

_"Alohomora!" _The doorknob turned with ease and Summer entered the room quickly, only to find the door on the opposite side of the room swinging shut. She rushed across, trying to catch it before it closed completely, fingers outstretched. The harsh click of metal on metal confirmed that the door was shut. An instant later, Summer wrenched it open again, suddenly desperate to know what exactly was going on. The door opened onto a familiar, but empty corridor. Summer felt defeated: the room had spat her out in the hall where her next class, Divination, was to be found. It was a cruel reminder, but her curiousity burned as much as ever as she headed to class.

Inside the Divination classroom, the scent of incense was overpowering, but helped calm Summer's nerves. She sat on a pouf beside a low table just as Professor Trelawny drifted into the room.

"Welcome, my dears, again. I would ask how you are, but of course, I have foreseen that you are all well," she said serenely. Parvati chose that moment to sneeze, clear testimony against the professor's claim of all-around health. Trelawny continued, unconcerned. "Today we begin the art of reading smoke. In this swirling grey mass, an adept Seer may peer at the patterns and find a window into the mystical world beyond." Beads clicked loudly and glittering shawls trailed as Trelawny swept her arms out in an all-encompassing gesture.

She set them to work, each student with a smoking pewter pot of incense to peer into. Summer could already hear some boys prophesizing that they would have watery eyes all day because of this. Summer, for her part, reread the paragraph of explanation in the textbook and cleared her mind, according to step one. Step two: breathe deeply. She almost choked on the heady fumes, but managed to survive and regulate her breathing. Step three: lean into the smoke, allowing the mind to be free of thought, and let the Inner Eye guide you. Summer ignored the voice in her head telling her that Divination was wishy-washy and illogical, a voice that sounded tremendously like Hermione.

The room was quiet and the fumes made Summer's head feel heavy. The smoke was very pretty, she thought, as it swirled in great loops of grey, spirals of insubstantial essence. _That swirl is nice, _Summer thought, head now propped on one hand, _looks like a sun. _She lazily followed the form with her eyes as it drifted up and dissipated. More shapes rose from the smoke: circles, ribbons, slithering snake-like strands, a dagger. Summer became alert and intense, and leaned closer into the fumes. The knife-shape turned slightly more solid, rotating on its tip, pointing downwards. Smoke continued to rise, and a new shape formed below the dagger, this one looking more like a creature. It wove slowly to and fro, gaining a bit more definition: small, with sharp ears and a tail. Now, the dagger, defying the laws of gravity, sank downwards towards the animal. It was precariously close to the creature and Summer edged further forward to see what would happen next.

A sharp clang tore her eyes away from the smoke: Seamus had fallen asleep again, and slumped forward onto the table, pushing the metal bowl onto the floor. Summer blinked quickly a few times, the sight of the pinned creature fresh in her mind. Trelawny began reprimanding Seamus, but the words were far from Summer's ears. The rest of the class was spent in contemplation, and she let the incense smolder in front of her without looking at the smoke. Was it the fumes that had induced such a sight? Or was Summer really that intuitive? She remembered, suddenly, a conversation from months ago.

_Harry frowned at her explanation of unknowingly telling the truth. "It's still unlikely though..."_

_Summer shrugged. "Professor Trelawny seems to be the only one not complaining about my work in class. Maybe I'm psychic."_

Now, those words echoed in her ears. It was an astounding coincidence that she had made up a story to get into Hogwarts, and had the exact same thing repeated back to her by Dumbledore and the book on Muggle genealogy. Divination was one of her easiest subjects, but she had always assumed it to be because of its make-believe quality. She would have to take a look in a different section of the library the next time she was there. And maybe, Summer would take up Luna's suggestion of using the Room of Requirement for studying, to see if she couldn't research more on this topic.

By the end of the week, Summer had spent more hours in the library than she had spent sleeping. She had scoured the shelves for books in every topic and tried to memorize everything. Just two weeks away, she had exams with the other Sixth Years and her final extra exam. The Room of Requirement never seemed available for use in the past few days: every time she walked by, the door failed to appear, signaling that it was already occupied. The kitchens were actually a wonderful place to study, as Luna had said, and Summer spent a few late nights there.

The weekend began tomorrow, when all students would happily parade down to Hogsmeade for winter frolicking, and when Summer would spend an extra-long day in the dungeons. She approached Snape after Double Potions to ask him what she should prepare to brew. Malfoy also came up to the Potions Master's desk, although he hadn't been in class. Summer glanced at him out of the corner of her eye: he was paler than usual, and looked sickly but trying not to show it.

"Mr. Malfoy, how kind of you to join us," Snape said. Silently, Malfoy handed over a small note of parchment. Snape read it quickly then glanced sharply up at Malfoy. "In my office, Malfoy," he snapped. "And take this," he added, giving Malfoy a roll of parchment tied with a black ribbon.

After a tense moment, Summer cleared her throat.

"Fifth year Potions. You will be preparing the Polyjuice Potion."

"But sir," Summer began, "doesn't that take a month to--,"

"Yes it does, but you will follow the directions as far as possible until that step, and then explain the theoretical method for the remainder of the potion. As for the other potion," Snape handed over a scroll that looked similar to the one he had given Malfoy, "You will need these instructions."

"Yes, sir," replied Summer, obediently. She turned to leave, hearing Snape do the same and a moment later, heard the door to his office shut. Immediately, loud voices broke out. Temptation urged her to stay and eavesdrop on the argument, but Summer shook her head to clear it. She had done enough snooping around for one day. Her time would be much better spent if she studied more. Once again, Summer went to the library to immerse herself in books.

Like a memory from long, long ago, Summer remembered that _Moste Potente Potions_ was a good reference book for the Polyjuice Potion, and that it could be found in the Restricted Section. She crept up to Madam Pince's desk. "Excuse me," she said in a loud whisper, "I was wondering if I could get into the Restricted Section for--,"

"It is strictly forbidden!" hissed the librarian, not looking up from her work.

"But Professor Snape asked for…" Before Summer could finish her sentence, Madam Pince looked up from her stack of books and, surprisingly, smiled.

"Oh. Yes, of course, here's the key."

Summer took the key, bewildered by the sudden change of heart. She opened her mouth to ask why, but the librarian beat her to it.

"Professor Snape gave his permission several weeks ago. To be honest, I was wondering why you hadn't come sooner: most students are itching to get in." And with a wave of her hand, she shooed Summer away in the right direction.

The key turned easily in the lock. Summer's thoughts ran wild: Snape had given permission? Exactly how dangerous would the next potions be? Her eyes strayed to the roll of parchment sticking out of her bag. What were the instructions for? She wondered if maybe she hadn't come to trust Snape too much. What if the next potion to be brewed was fatal? Or what if he wanted to use it on her? Brewing her own death would be an ironic end…

Resolutely, she grabbed the book she had been looking for and started flipping its pages. She forcefully pushed back grim thoughts: if Snape had been out to kill her, he had missed lots of great opportunities. Now, she would focus on Polyjuice Potion, and maybe later, or maybe tomorrow morning, she would open the scroll.


	14. Getting Lucky

Author's note:I'm going to try to get the Christmas chapter done before Christmas for you guys. Which means the New Years chapter will probably be after real-life New Years... sorry, but I need vacation time too! Enjoy the chapter!

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Fourteen: Getting Lucky**

Summer woke as abruptly as if someone had dumped a bucket of water on her head, and sat up to stare at her curtains. She'd just had such a weird dream… Snape had made her brew Draught of Living Death, and then poured her tea from the cauldron, while Malfoy, fox-faced, ran around them in circles, crying out different potion ingredients. She shook her head at the bizarreness of it, and told herself it was only because she was nervous about a doubly long lesson with Snape today.

"It really is a shame you can't come to Hogsmeade, Summer," Hermione said as the two girls got ready for the day.

"Well, I can't learn about Potions in the village," she replied. "Have a butterbeer for me."

"Oh, do you want wrapping paper for the gifts?" Hermione added.

Summer, already dashing out of the dorm and down in the direction of breakfast, yelled back in the affirmative. She had her bag, as usual, and the roll of parchment was clutched tightly in her right hand. I'll read it over breakfast, she told herself. The dream made her even more reluctant to discover what the second potion would be, but if she came unprepared, Snape would be all the more likely to cut her head off.

The Great Hall was fairly empty, because most normal students would sleep in on a Saturday. Summer ate breakfast quickly and unfurled the parchment. As she read the first line, she almost spat out her pumpkin juice onto the paper, but stopped herself, coughing and choking. After a minute of coughing into her napkin, she reread the name of the potion. Snape must have been crazy to suggest this potion. Firstly, it was insanely complicated. And secondly, how would he grade it since it took six months to brew? Summer sighed. It was obvious that her lunch break would be spent in the library. She needed to learn how to make Felix Felicis.

* * *

The dungeons were quiet and oppressive, as usual. Snape began speaking as soon as Summer had walked in the door. 

"You have until noon to complete the Polyjuice Potion to the best of your abilities. Clearly, it will not be ready in three hours time," he drawled, "however, it will remain undisturbed for the necessary brewing time, and in January you will receive my remarks on it. You will return at one for… the second half of the lesson." He did not say the name of the potion, probably, Summer thought, to intimidate her. It worked.

"Yes sir," she said and got to work without another glance at him. Although she had gotten used to his severity and strictness, she definitely had not lost sight of his daunting nature that caused most students to fear him. She always felt that the slightest mistake would bring down the wrath of the Potions Master. So it was with great hesitation that after an hour, Summer paused, looked from her cauldron to her book, and spoke up.

"Professor, I'm missing an ingredient," she said.

"I set the ingredients out myself this morning, Miss Granger," Snape replied, as though insulted. "Check again."

Summer did. "No, I'm definitely missing something."

"What?" came the snappish reply.

"Powdered bicorn horn."

Snape got up, reluctantly, and crossed over to her. He picked up a jar and thrust it at her. "Can you read, Granger?" The jar had the correct label. Snape was already returning to his desk.

"Yes, sir, I can, and this jar is mislabeled."

"Really?" he asked dryly.

Summer shook a tiny bit of the sparkling powder onto her hand. "This is powdered unicorn horn," she said, tilting her hand. The powder glittered white. "Bicorn horn is a light grey, and not as iridescent." She shook the powder back into the jar and handed it over to Snape.

Snape looked at the jar in mild amusement. "Your Potion making is very intuitive," he said, surprising her. "I replaced the ingredient to judge your reaction." Summer blinked in astonishment. _Did he just compliment me? _He left the room and came back a moment later, placing a jar of the correct ingredient on the table. Numbly, Summer returned to work. Silence settled again.

Another hour passed and Summer had almost completed the potion before Snape spoke up.

"Are you prepared for the examination?" he asked.

"As much as can be expected, I suppose," she replied. As long as she wasn't asked to demonstrate the Accio spell, she would be fine. Snape raised an eyebrow in inquiry. "I'll pass," Summer explained with a sigh.

"I expect your Potion-making to be satisfactory."

"Yes, sir."

"It will be unnecessary for you to continue Remedial Potions in the new year."

Summer paused in her stirring of the potion and glanced up at Snape. She wasn't sure how she felt about that. Good, to have finally caught up. Proud, to have learned enough to satisfy Snape. But some negative emotion also nudged her. She almost felt like Saturdays spent on something other than Potions would be a waste of time. It caught her by surprise: she realized that she would miss this.

"If you leave it to stew any longer, it will ruin the subtlety of the bicorn's properties," remarked Snape sharply.

"Right, sorry," Summer mumbled, and quickly took the cauldron off the fire and let Snape take care of it.

"Return at one o'clock."

Summer nodded and sped out of the dungeon. When she entered the Great Hall, it was empty of all upper-year students (undoubtedly all in Hogsmeade). She hastily ate a sandwich and rushed to the library. _If all this studying hasn't made me smarter, then at least I've definitely learned to get around the library. _Madam Pince let her into the Restricted Section without any questions and for the better part of an hour, Summer was immersed in the theory of brewing Felix Felicis. It was incredibly difficult.

_If only Hermione were here_, thought Summer. Hermione had probably already read the very book that Summer was now perusing. Vaguely, she wondered what her cousin was doing now. In her mind's eye, she pictured Hermione, Ron and Harry, eating lunch in the Three Broomsticks, Ron sloshing butterbeer down his shirt and Hermione reprimanding him ("Honestly, Ronald, if I didn't know any better I would think you'd gotten into Madam Rosemerta's firewhiskey stock!") and all of them laughing. Summer frowned. As soon as her exams were done, she was going to stop studying and learn to live a little.

She arrived a few minutes early to the Potions classroom and took a seat at the bench in front of Snape. Oddly, neither the cauldron nor the ingredients were set out. Still, knowing that Snape never did anything without a reason, Summer stayed quiet and reread the instructions and the notes she had made. It would take most of the afternoon to brew, and if she was lucky (she grimaced at the word), she would finish before dinner. The third time she reread the parchment, she looked at Snape. It had to be a few minutes past one now, and even though he stressed beginning promptly, there were no materials and the professor was looking angrier by the second. Just as she opened her mouth to ask what was the matter, the door to the class banged open. Her jaw dropped as she turned in her seat.

"Sorry I'm late, Professor," Draco Malfoy said. He strode in confident and carefree. He seemed ignorant of the glares he was receiving from Snape.

"If you were another moment late, Draco, I would have denied you this opportunity," he hissed. Summer's brain was still scrambling to figure out why Draco was here in the first place. Snape clarified that by adding, "As it is, I will decrease the mark for this extra credit assignment by five percent. Consider yourself … lucky." With a cruel smile at the final word, Snape waved his wand and the ingredients appeared.

Summer began arranging her ingredients in the order that she would need them. It was a mindless task that left her thoughts free to digest the fact that Draco must be doing awful in Potions in order to need an extra credit assignment. Or maybe, she thought, it was for missing class. This made her think again about what he had been doing in the moving room on the sixth floor. But before she could get too carried away with wild speculation, Summer forced her attention back to the tricky potion.

The two students brewed in silence. Snape came and went several times, and glanced into their cauldrons. Time was measured in stirring and ingredients. The quiet was broken only by the crackling of the fires and the occasional muffled curse from Malfoy. Summer thought his potion must be doing much worse than her own, because Draco was incapable of keeping his frustration to himself. In the first few minutes, his arrogant attitude had been replaced.

Summer had to admit that this was one of the most difficult potions she had brewed thus far, even keeping in mind that Snape had made this year anything but easy for her. Felix turned into a lava-like substance and Summer reread the instructions and then her notes. Huffing, she added two extra drops of marigold oil to counterbalance the four grains of diamond dust she had put in: the instructions asked for two grains. The potion turned the appropriate shade of indigo and Summer let out a breath of relief. The precision of Felix Felicis was ridiculous. She had to repeat the process of checking her notes more times than she cared to admit and doubted her "intuitive sense of Potions." After four hours of painstaking work, Summer leaned back from her cauldron and rolled her shoulders.

"Finished?" Snape asked, coming to assess the contents.

"Yes, Professor," she replied. Her potion was currently muddy in both color and consistency but Summer wasn't worried. The instructions said that over six months, it would become more liquid and turned into a golden color, if it was kept over a very low fire. Snape nodded in approval and levitated the potion into his office.

"I'm done too," announced Draco when Snape returned. The contents of Malfoy's cauldron were not quite as promising. The color and consistency of his potion was more like molasses than mud. When Snape moved to take the potion, Malfoy stopped him and levitated it on his own. "I'll do it." He disappeared into the office.

"I expect the potion will be ready for assessment by June. You should receive a mark before the final examination," Snape explained to her as he returned to his desk. Draco reentered the classroom and headed swiftly for his bag. "The same applies to you, Draco," Snape added.

"Yes sir," Draco replied cheerfully. Summer noticed that while his right hand swung the bag over his shoulder, the other discreetly slipped a vial into his pocket. "Thank you, sir." And he was gone.

Summer swallowed nervously. She had a very strong suspicion about that vial, but Snape hadn't noticed anything.

"Professor, what happens if you take Felix Felicis before it's fully brewed?"

"Having never taken the potion myself, I would not know," he replied coolly. "But, theory tells us that it would have the opposite effect of properly brewed Felix."

"You mean bad luck?"

"Disastrous, to be precise." Snape looked up from his parchment. "I hope you are not considering taking it for the upcoming exams. For one, it is an illegal examination aid. And secondly, I would strongly dissuade you from it."

If Snape, who was happy letting students suffer consequences, warned her so strongly, it must be bad. "No, sir, of course not," she replied. She packed up her things as quickly as she could. "Have a good weekend," she said automatically as she dashed out of the class, eyes darting left and right to find out where Draco had gone. Acting on a whim, she turned left into the passage that led upwards.

After a few minutes, she found him in the courtyard with Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy Parkinson. He looked more confident than usual and she wondered if he was telling them about the potion he had nicked. Summer marched up to him.

"We need to talk," she said curtly, cutting off their conversation.

"Do we? And what would I talk about with _you_, Granger?" he asked snidely, looking down on her.

"You know perfectly well," she growled. It was one thing for him to feign ignorance, and quite another to imply that she had a lower status, according to him. Draco held her gaze and with a slight nod he dismissed the other Slytherins. Pansy glared fiercely at Summer as she passed by.

"What is this about, exactly?" he asked airily.

"I might ask you the same question," she bit back. "What are you playing at, taking the potion?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." His tone was casual but his eyes were not focused.

"You're not that good an actor. And anyways, I saw you take a vial of it." Summer crossed her arms. "You know it's illegal to use Felix on exams, right?"

He snorted in contempt. "I never cared much for rules."

"Fine, then care for yourself: if you take it before it's properly finished, you'll have awful luck," she insisted.

"How do you know I'm not planning on taking it in six months?"

"Because exams are in a few weeks."

"I'll put a charm on it."

"It won't work, haven't you read any of the theory on this?"

"Who needs theory if you have instructions? Now, will you leave me alone? I have things to do," and he made a move to brush past her.

Summer caught his arm. "Don't take it, Malfoy. I may not be a Potions expert, but I can tell you this much: your potion went wrong. It might even be lethal, if you screwed it up badly enough."

He wrenched his arm out of her grip. His steely eyes glared at her. "What makes you think I took my own potion?"

Summer, stunned, stood there and let him stalk off. If he took her potion… well, in six months it would be alright, more or less. But now? Time charms would only distort the effects of the potion once he drank it. What if he was discovered during an exam? Would he be expelled because of Summer's Felix Felicis? Or what if she had brewed it incorrectly? What if one of those countless adjustments had altered the potion?

Whatever happened from now on, it would be Summer's responsibility. Grimly, she promised herself that she would keep an eye on Draco whenever possible. And when his lucky day came, she would do everything possible to keep him from killing himself.

Five days after beginning her vigilante quest, Summer was hard pressed to remember why exactly she hadn't just tried to confiscate the potion from Draco immediately. Summer, not having access to an Invisibility Cloak nor a Marauder's Map, found it insanely difficult to sneak around school unnoticed. Between classes and during the evening were the best times to stalk Draco, but this was complicated by Summer's need to study for her exams and to go to tutoring with Harry. Three in the morning, although perhaps not an ideal time, had the castle deserted and quiet and left Summer free to circulate the corridors for about an hour, just to make sure nothing uncharacteristically lucky was going on. Coincidentally, her recent insomnia had given Summer enough time to write a somewhat-normal letter to her parents, which she sent along with the gifts.

Now, Wednesday, with exams starting on the coming Monday, Summer was exhausted and preoccupied. She didn't know if she should panic more about the whereabouts of Felix Felicis, or about her impending examination. It was just before seven in the evening, she was practicing with Harry, and wanted nothing more than to sleep.

"_Accio desk!_" Summer repeated for the umpteenth time. The desk in question scooted forward, and then zigzagged off to the left, repeatedly banging into the wall. Summer stilled it with a wave of her wand. "_Accio quill!_" Harry's quill, with which he had been making notes for something, wobbled and he drew a long uneven line across the parchment. "Sorry," Summer apologized, and then raised her wand to try Summoning something else.

"No, no, don't," Harry said hurriedly. "I think you've had about enough of that charm."

"I agree!" Summer replied. She transfigured a textbook into a cushion and sat down. At least she was well-prepared in every other subject. "What're you writing anyways? Christmas cards? Shouldn't you be giving me your undivided attention, _Professor_?"

"Tomorrow, maybe," he rolled up what he had been working on. "I've got to go."

"What? Now? You're abandoning me and my doomed spellwork?" Summer complained from the floor.

Harry, halfway to the door, looked back. "Well, you're coming too, aren't you?"

"Where? For what?"

"The D.A. Don't tell me you've forgotten. Do you ever check your galleon?" he asked. Summer shrugged. "I don't see why Hermione even bothered," he muttered under his breath.

"I heard that!" Summer was miffed and scrambled up from the floor anyways and set off with Harry. There was a stiff silence between them as they made their way to the Room of Requirement. "So… er… what's new?" she asked.

He glanced at her. "Not much," he replied in a flat tone.

"Interesting year so far?"

"As interesting as every other year," he replied with a sardonic smile.

"At least no one's died yet!" Summer grinned cheerfully. She felt that, having just begun magic this year, it was an amazing accomplishment that no one had gotten seriously hurt. But the look in Harry's eyes made her grin fall. She remembered: he had lost his godfather at the end of the previous year. "Sorry," she mumbled.

He sighed and for a while they were quiet. Harry spoke up again when they were just outside the Room of Requirement. "It's not all fun and games, you know. Magic."

"Just until someone loses an eye," Summer replied with a wink. "Don't worry, I get it. Go on, Harry, they're waiting." He went ahead into the room, immediately grabbing the attention of the students. Summer, as usual, slunk to the back, thinking about how right he had been: it wasn't all fun. She thought of her coming exam, the potion and Draco, and about the strange images in the smoke.

"It can't be that bad."

Summer looked around, startled. "What?" Nel was standing by her with her hands on her hips. Was Nel psychic too, she wondered?

"You look morose," the younger girl stated.

"That's a big word," Summer said dumbly.

"I _am_ a Ravenclaw," she pointed out. "And it can't be that bad. I'll go easy on you."

"What?" Summer repeated.

"Have you been paying attention at all?" Nel demanded. Summer looked guilty. "Harry's divided us into pairs and we're practicing dueling, just for fun as an easy last lesson before exams. And like I said, I'll go easy on you."

Summer tilted her head to the side as she looked at the girl. Here, a twelve year old was telling her not to worry, because she would hold back on dueling. A twelve year old girl. Summer shrugged and the two of them took up the appropriate stance. She was still thinking of a nice mild curse to throw at Nel when a bolt of spiraling orange light caught her off guard and knocked her off her feet. Summer stared at the ceiling, catching her breath.

Nel's face appeared above her. "That should have been easy to block."

Summer sighed at the condescending tone and with a groan, gathered herself off the floor. "Yeah, well, I'm not exactly a pro, am I?" She squared her shoulders. There was no way she was going to lose to a second year student. Summer was tired of magic getting the best of her. "Let's try again."

This time, she noticed how Nel's arm would twitch a little to the left, showing an anticipated movement, and how her eyes would narrow to find a target. Summer, filled with determination, managed to hold her own against the girl for the remainder of the session. Some students had smoldering sleeves or singed hair and other curious side-effects. Finally, Nel admitted defeat after a particularly vicious Bat Bogey Hex from Summer. The two girls prepared to leave as the session was winding down. Summer, who had bent to pick up her bag, felt a curious urge to turn back around.

She spun quickly on her heel, wand held out, just in time to see Nel aiming a final jinx. "_Protego!_" she yelled, barely in time and most of the jinx was deflected inches from her nose. The force of Summer's spell combined with Nel's onslaught to send Summer reeling backwards, stumbling over her bag. Gravity took hold. But instead of jarring herself on the ground once again, her arm was caught by another and Summer was hauled upright.

"Lucky block," Harry said, setting Summer on her feet again.

Summer looked sick. "Don't talk to me about luck." Shaken and with exhaustion rapidly setting in, Summer gathered her things and turned to Nel. "Good shot, though. I should've known you wouldn't give up so easily," she said with a grin.

Nel shrugged. "Ravenclaw," she offered, as an explanation. The girls smiled at one another. "Oh, and Summer, good luck on exams."

Summer, who had already reached the door, paused and snorted. "Luck," she said, "is the last thing I need."


	15. The Fox

**Authors Note: Read this slowly, it has to last you at least two weeks. But it's twice as long as all previous chapters! Have a wonderful holiday!**

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Fifteen: The Fox**

Harry and Ron were at a loss: they couldn't figure out which of the Grangers was more distraught and frazzled. It was the morning of the first day of exams and there was a nervous murmur in the Great Hall. Some students were trying not to fall asleep over breakfast, while others were so stressed that they tried to eat their watery porridge with their forks. Summer and Hermione belonged to this group. Hermione had a pile of parchment in front of her, and constantly demanded that someone ask her a question, any question, from History of Magic. Summer was much the same, but less organized. Her parchment was scattered around her, stuffed in her pockets and coming out of her sleeves. Her hair was pulled into an untidy ponytail and she had dark circles under her eyes, which were darting back and forth nervously.

"You'll be fine," Ron said.

"Why aren't you studying, Ron? You still have time!" Hermione thrust some scraps of notes at him.

"Really, Hermione, you've got to calm down," he replied, waving away the proffered notes. "I figure that since I've not studied too much in the past five years and still gotten decent marks, I don't see why I should bother getting worried. I'll pass this year, just as I've passed every other."

Hermione looked like she could rip her hair out. She grinded her teeth together. "Harry, talk some sense into him!"

Harry looked between his two best friends and shook his head. "I am not getting involved." He turned his attention to Summer. "Alright with everything?"

Summer, who had been nervously scanning the Slytherin table for any sign of Malfoy, jumped. "Who? What? Me? Yeah, great." Her eyes narrowed. There he was, just coming in. She watched him closely for several minutes, making sure that nothing other than pumpkin juice went into his drink. Summer felt relief: if he wanted to get lucky for exams, he would have done it at breakfast, but he was already getting up to leave. That meant, most likely, that Malfoy would take the potion tomorrow morning, on the second day of exams. She would just have to catch him before he had breakfast.

"Summer?" All three of her companions were looking at her: they had already stood up, ready to leave.

"Hmm? Yea, sure," she mumbled, and left with them, falling into step silently. She was still wrapped in her worries for Malfoy… _No_, she told herself, _you're worried about the consequences for you because it's your potion._ She repeated this in her head until it sounded more real.

"When's your exam?" Harry asked.

Summer took notice of her surroundings: they were halfway to the greenhouse for their Herbology exam. Ron and Hermione were several meters ahead of them, still arguing about studying being vital to successfully passing examinations. Summer was bewildered for a moment by the question. "Now?" she replied, uncertain. Weren't they all on their way to the exam?

Harry frowned, but made no comment on her distraction. "I meant the other one," he clarified.

"Oh, right. It's the day after tomorrow, from noon till three, in the Headmaster's office," she replied. Duly, she noted that their Herbology exam would be in the same greenhouse that she and Harry had had one of their yelling matches.

"But you'll miss the train," he pointed out.

"I'm not taking the train; I'm staying here for the holidays." The students were arranging themselves as close to the warm glass walls as possible: Professor Sprout had not yet arrived and a biting wind was blowing.

"Oh," Harry replied. He shifted from foot to foot, either from nerves or from the cold, or both. "Are you ready for it?"

"As long as I'm not asked to Summon anything, I'll be fine," she said, reassuring both of them. Suddenly, she clutched her bag. "Oh no," she murmured, and started desperately searching her pockets, slowly confirming her suspicions.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked, catching some paper that was drifting out of Summer's bag.

"I forgot a quill," she said in desperation. "I'm such an idiot! I know all the uses of Screechsnap sap, but I don't have a quill!"

"Here," and Harry gave her one of his. She accepted it gratefully, and he nudged her forward since the door had been opened.

"Thanks, Harry," she replied, with a look that made it clear she was talking about more than just a quill.

Herbology was followed by History of Magic and then by Potions. By the end of the day, Summer felt like her brain had gone through a blender. Somehow, though, she managed to get through Herbology and History of Magic without problems. She nearly froze in Potions, for a moment paralyzed by fear of being totally incompetent. But the potion that Snape asked for was fairly straight forward, and had been referenced in Gilbert's _Thoughts on Theory of Expert Potion-Making_, which she had read some time before.

During dinner, everyone was too tired to speak much. Summer was even too exhausted to search for Draco at the Slytherin table. Everyone went back to their common rooms to return to studying. The night was quiet and stressful, like the day. The two Grangers stayed up much later than Ron and Harry, occasionally consulting one another on some detail. Eventually, even Hermione called it a night and went to bed. Summer, determined to do as well as possible, stayed up late into the night.

When she woke in the morning, she couldn't remember when she had fallen asleep. Somewhere between grindylows and hinkypunks, apparently, as she saw when she peeled herself off of the notes she had fallen asleep on. Breakfast was a hurried affair, with more quizzing and last-minute note-checking. Summer felt a vise grip her stomach when Malfoy showed up: he looked confident. But was it his usual arrogance, or was it Felix-enhanced confidence? Her heart was pounding with worry as she watched him eat his breakfast. This was illegal, this could get her expelled, this could be bad!

But then, he got up from his seat and his elbow jostled a glass standing precariously close to the edge of the table. Juice spilled onto Pansy Parkinson's lap and she squealed.

No, Summer thought, smirking. Draco hadn't taken Felix: the bad-luck potion would have made the juice spill onto his robes. She relaxed. Now, there was nothing to worry about. The next obvious time to take Felix would be for the summer exams, in six months, when the potion would still be illegal, but at least not disastrous.

The second day of exams went by quickly. Summer mis-transfigured a potted gardenia into a moth, instead of the butterfly that had been requested. DADA and Charms both went well; considering that she was still missing fifth year knowledge in both. In Divination, she again saw strange shapes in the smoking pot of incense, but instead made something up about what Trelawny could expect as Christmas gifts (a kitten and a letter-opener). She also had to interpret a dream and do a tarot reading, both of which told the same thing: a lot of trouble, followed by a revelation or something.

When all the students began laughing again and cheerfully preparing for tomorrow's departure, Summer retreated to the library to study more for her final exam. She felt much more optimistic now and much less worried, and so Summer thought it would be alright to sleep normally for the first time in several weeks. She left the library before Madam Pince even had a chance to tell her it was closing. In Gryffindor Tower, with the noise of revelry below her, Summer quickly fell asleep with an easy smile on her face.

In another part of the castle, another student was not so happy and carefree. This student was swearing angrily. With grim determination, Draco Malfoy clenched his fists. All year, he had been working so hard and nothing was coming of his efforts. Tomorrow, though, would be a different story. He gripped a vial in one hand. The liquid within it shone a bright, cheerful gold.

* * *

Summer sat up in bed. She frowned. What had she been dreaming of? Now, she could hardly recall anything, but was certain that there was something white involved. Snow, maybe? Or something very pale… a ghost? She shook her head to clear it. Whatever her dream had been, it meant nothing. There were more important things to worry about, like her exam.

At breakfast, everyone was enthusiastically discussing holiday plans. None of the students were worried anymore about the traveling restrictions. It was nearly Christmas, and surely nothing bad could happen. Summer would have loved to catch their energetic mood, but something, either her strange dream or her exam anxiety, kept her from it.

Across the Hall, Summer saw Draco sitting down to breakfast. Feeling decidedly more confident on the matter of Felix, Summer was almost tempted to smile at him triumphantly. Until she saw, in slow motion, as he tipped something from his sleeve into his goblet. And then, slowly and slyly, he looked up and caught her eye. Smirking, he raised his glass as though he were toasting her. In a moment, he had drained the cup dry.

Summer felt like the bottom had fallen out of her world. She was simultaneously gripped by fear and fury, and she dug her nails into the wood of the table. He had taken the potion. She knew it without a doubt. And now, she felt like leaping across tables to strangle him for being such a Slytherin, and such an idiot!

The arrival of the morning post stopped her. There was a flurry of Christmas cards and letters, or packages to the few students that were staying. One owl dropped a letter on Summer's head, which she was about to hand off to Hermione, expecting it to be for her cousin, but saw, to her surprise, her own name on the envelope written in the familiar hand of her mother. It was an unusual sight: the plain white envelope and the smooth ink that had certainly come from a ballpoint pen contrasted to the quill-scratches and thick parchment that Summer had become used to. Although she longed to read it, she stuffed it in her pocket and turned her attention back to Draco. He had gotten up and was leaving the table. She needed a word, or several, with him.

Hundreds of students were milling about in the Entrance Hall. The train was leaving at ten, and already some students had left for the station. Hermione saw Summer passing by and grabbed her bodily into a hug.

"I'm so sorry I can't stay with you for the holidays, but you know how it is with family," she explained, speaking into Summer's hair.

"Er… yeah. Don't worry about it," Summer said, scanning the crowd for Draco. Was he even going home for Christmas? And why had he chosen today to be lucky? She pulled away from her cousin. "Besides, my great-uncle might still be angry about that family feud that made us estranged in the first place," she said with a wink. "Have a great Christmas," she said to Ron and Harry, and with a wave she turned back into the crowd. She sincerely hoped they would have fun; Summer wouldn't wish Christmas spent alone in a huge empty castle on anyone. _Well, _she thought, _maybe on that idiot, Malfoy._ She had caught sight of his white-blonde hair close to the stair case and wove through the crowd to get there. He certainly looked smug.

She rushed up to him and grabbed his arm, dragging him away from whoever he had been talking to, and towards a smaller, emptier hallway. "You," she said furiously when they stopped, and pointed a shaking finger at him. "You…. You… you _snake!_ Why did you do that?"

"Do what?" Draco asked nonchalantly.

"Don't play innocent," she snapped. "You took it, didn't you? Washed your scrambled eggs down with a nice glass of Felix Felicis?"

"So what if I did?"

Summer groaned and stamped her foot. "Oh, only my head on the line, for brewing that damn potion. And your own bad luck. You could get yourself killed!"

"Worried, Granger?" he asked in mock surprise. "I wouldn't have expected it of you. Tsk tsk," he added, lowering his voice, "a Gryffindor worrying about a Slytherin. That won't go over too well with Potter."

"Shut up!" she hissed and slapped his arm. "And today, of all days!" Summer threw up her hands in exasperation.

"It could have been worse," he replied with a grin. "I could have taken it during exams, and then you really would've gotten in trouble."

"So would you, genius," she pointed out.

"What's the big deal, anyway? Exams are over, and everyone's leaving. Why is today so bad?"

"Because I still have an exam. And how am I supposed to keep an eye on you then? _And_, you'll be going on the train soon anyway. What if it derails? Hmm?" She advanced and poked his chest. "What about every other Hogwarts student that could get hurt?" She poked him again with an accusatory glare in her eyes. "And what if the Ministry decides that the Hogwarts Express shouldn't go at all? And they shut down Hogwarts? Hmm? What then?" She accentuated each question with a poke until eventually, Draco had to back up against the wall.

"Don't think you can intimidate me, Granger," he snarled in defense.

"This is all going to come crashing down around your ears, can't you see that?" she hissed, grabbing his arms, fully intending to physically shake some sense into him.

"Draco!" A high-pitched shriek caught their attention and their heads turned simultaneously. Pansy was storming down the hall, looking as furious, if not more so, than Summer. Her face was twisted into a scowl of hatred. "I've known it for weeks! The juice yesterday, and now this? How could you! How? All I ask, is that you just spend a _few_ hours with me every day, but you're always disappearing! Just talk to me about your _feelings_. Make plans for us. Just write me a little _note_ now and again. Just be _here_ for me, and _trust_ me, and _hold_ me. But you can't do it! You can't! You," she sneered as she leaned forward menacingly, "have _commitment issues_."

She said it like it was a death sentence. Summer, who thought Pansy's demands were highly unreasonable for a teenage boy, snorted. This was absolutely ridiculous, she thought, and sort of pitied Draco. Until Pansy rounded on her.

"And you! You're always sneaking about, aren't you? Secret rendez-vous with Professor Snape? And now with Draco?" Summer realized she still had a hold on his shoulders and dropped her hands hastily. "I've got my eye on you. You'd better watch your back, _mudblood_."

The situation suddenly became much less amusing, and Summer launched herself at Pansy. "Whaddya call me? Huh? Say it again, I dare you," she yelled, and tried to get at Pansy, but something was holding her back. Draco had come between them and was holding the two girls apart.

"Ladies, ladies, please," he said in a soothing tone. "There's enough of me to go around."

Summer, infuriated further by this arrogant fool, drew her fist back to punch him, but Pansy beat her to it. The Slytherin girl delivered a solid blow to Malfoy's jaw. Malfoy looked at Pansy in shock. Summer was about to congratulate Pansy on a good blow, but she got a first-hand experience a moment later. Pansy swung her fist again, striking Summer across her cheekbone. Before either victim could do anything more, Pansy had whirled on her heel and strode off back to the Entrance Hall.

Still slightly trembling from all the emotion and anger which had been running through her blood, Summer leaned heavily against the cool stone wall, and then slid down to sit on the floor.

"Well," she said quietly. "I think I made my point."

"What, that?" Malfoy said incredulously. "That's _good_ luck. Good riddance to her. She was starting to be a bit of an attention seeker."

Summer _hmph_ed. "A bit?" Then she fell silent. It was obvious to her that Felix had turned rotten, and there was a strong chance that Draco would continue getting into fights until the potion wore off.

"How big was the dose you took?" she asked.

"Enough for the day," he replied, gingerly putting a hand to his reddening jaw. His lip had been split, and he wiped the blood on the sleeve of his cloak. "You're bleeding."

"Am I?" Summer asked. Sure enough, Pansy's punch had left a long scratch across Summer's left cheekbone. That explained the continuing pain, she thought, and following Malfoy's example, wiped the blood on her sleeve. "She must've been wearing a ring. Punches like a boxer, though," she said and leaned her head back against the wall. This whole situation was feeling very anti-climactic. "Still feeling lucky?"

"Very."

"Good, 'cause Filch is coming. You can explain why students are getting into fist-fights on the first day of holidays."

"What?" He looked around quickly. "How do you know?"

Summer pointed down the hall. There, half in shadows, a pair of cat eyes blinked at them. Filch's feline spy would soon alert the caretaker. Warily, Summer hauled herself to her feet. "C'mon, let's go," she said. By now, the anger had seeped away. This was as much her responsibility as Malfoy's, and the least she could do was keep him from the worst of the luck.

"Right," Draco said, and turned in the opposite direction, heading for the dungeons. Summer opened her mouth to protest, then shrugged and followed him. Either way, it was away from Filch, which was a good idea.

"What are you doing, Granger?" he asked coldly.

"Walking. And you?"

"I meant here. Following me."

"Someone's got to keep an eye on you. And I've still got about an hour before my exam. Where are we going? To confess to the Professor?" she asked, meaning Snape.

"I'm going to my common room. You are going to leave me alone," he commanded, and continued on.

Summer followed. "You're going to miss the train."

"Why are you still here?"

"Why did you pick today to take the potion?"

"Why do you want to know?"

"Why aren't you answering the question?" Summer raised her voice, getting angrier.

"Why are you asking?" Malfoy, also, started getting louder and they halted in the corridor.

"Why are you being an idiot?"

"What gives you the right to call me an idiot!?"

"What gives you the right to take _my_ potion!?"

"What gives either of you any right to be screaming outside my door?"

Summer and Draco blinked. Snape had appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, but now they realized that they were, in fact, before the Potions classroom. And there was the Potions Master, surly, with arms crossed and looking cross. "What did I hear about a potion?"

Summer couldn't look at Malfoy and couldn't meet the eyes of Snape. She felt guilt pressing down on her like a hippogriff. "Professor, I'm so sorry, it's all my fault! When we were brewing the Felix Felicis, at the end, Malfoy took some of mine. And I saw him and I told him not to take it, and how he'll have really disastrous luck, and that he'd get in so much trouble, but he didn't listen, sir, he didn't. And today, this morning, I saw him take it, he admits it, and now he'll probably kill himself, and I… I… I'll be expelled," she finished, gasping for breath and looking utterly defeated.

Severus Snape raised an eyebrow. He looked from one student to the other. "Well?" he asked coolly.

Malfoy shrugged. "She's right, it's all her fault."

"What?" Summer's head snapped up. She smacked his arm. "Don't be an ass, Malfoy. You drank it." She was torn between fury and guilt and settled for crossing her arms and frowning stubbornly at the wall.

Snape was silent for a long moment. "Come with me," he said finally and swept into the Potions classroom. They followed him through the class and into his office and stood dutifully before his desk while he rummaged for a moment. He held a small green jar out to Summer, who took it numbly. What was this? Poison? Wasn't that a sort of harsh punishment? "For your cheek," the professor explained and sat at his desk.

"Sir?" Summer began tentatively. At a nod from Severus, she continued. "What'll happen?"

"It will reduce the bruising," he replied sharply. Summer felt like an idiot and resorted to meekly dabbing a bit of the ointment on her face. Her cheek felt cooled instantly. Silently, she handed the miracle cream over to Malfoy. "I assume, Miss Granger, that you were referring to the outcome of this situation, and not to the effects of the cream?" Summer nodded. "From what I understand, drinking Felix Felicis before it has fully matured is punishment enough. I think a day of catastrophe will warn you against doing the same."

Malfoy's face was neutral and he nodded. Summer wondered if he still thought Felix would bring him good luck.

"You may go. Granger, do try to keep him from severing any limbs, if at all possible. His father would not be pleased if that happened," Snape said. At the mention of his father, Draco's hand tightened around a package that Summer had not noticed before. He must have received the plain brown rectangular box in the post this morning. An idea struck Summer: had he received it before or after taking the potion?

"That's all, sir?" Summer asked.

"You will find that I am not unkind, Miss Granger," he replied. Summer was faced again with the fact that actually, Slytherins did not seem outright rude. "I remind you that you have forty-five minutes before your next examination starts."

"Yes sir," she said and followed Draco from the room. "Happy Christmas." It must have been her imagination, but she could have sworn she heard Snape reply, very quietly, "You too."

Once they were in the hall again, Draco moved to continue on to the Slytherin common room, fully intending to leave Summer behind.

"Uh-uh, no way, you're coming with me," Summer said, gripping his arm and trying to drag him in the opposite direction.

"Let go," Draco growled in a low and dangerous voice that almost made Summer do what he wanted.

"No," she replied quietly. She cleared her throat and continued in a more normal, assertive voice. "How am I supposed to keep an eye on you if you aren't around? Come on, we're going to Headmaster Dumbledore and asking him if you can sit in on the exam." She tugged stubbornly on his arm.

Quicker than she could blink, Draco had drawn his wand with his free arm. "Let go."

"And again, no," Summer replied as calmly as she could.

Malfoy was too astonished at having someone not obey his command to notice that Summer had managed to get him walking in the right direction. "You can't… you can't just _go_," he said. "I've got my wand in your face!" Summer was tempted to check if he was pouting. He sounded like a whiny child.

"Malfoy, not two hours ago you ingested a days' worth of bad luck. Why would you pull your wand on anyone today? Chances are it would backfire and hurt you," reasoned Summer.

Malfoy fumed silently for a while and they climbed the marble staircase in the Entrance Hall. It was empty, everyone had already gone. All the Christmas decorations now looked ridiculous, since there was no one there to appreciate the lavish garlands or fake snow. At the top of the staircases he wrenched his arm away from Summer. "I'm coming, alright? You don't have to hold on to me like a child."

They paused at the top of the flight. "I wouldn't, if you weren't acting like one," she snapped. "Why did you take the potion today?"

"You think you're such a clever witch."

"You're avoiding the question. And yes, I am."

"But you aren't, really. You're just average. What's your wand? Maple, oak? Something exceedingly ordinary, no doubt. I don't see what the Dark Lord wanted with you anyway."

"Let's not get into the past, Draco," she said, holding up a pacifying hand, urging herself to remain calm. "Why did you take the potion today?" she repeated.

"Just average," he continued, now advancing on her, clearly needing an outlet for his anger: Felix wasn't going as planned. "Average and incapable. Uninteresting and unintelligent. Fitting the mold. You're just the perfect, little mudblood, aren't you?"

A muscle twitched in Summer's jaw. "You're just looking for an outlet for your anger because the potion is not making you lucky."

"Who are you convincing? Me, or you?"

"Shut _up_, Malfoy, and let's just go," she said, turning to move on to the next flight of stairs.

"I don't have to do what you tell me, _mudblood_."

That was it. Summer could handle a lot of insults, but not ones that were so blatantly discriminatory. The anger that she had been trying to suppress was finally let loose, and she whirled around, her palm making a satisfying, loud smack as it struck Draco's face. Almost comically, an expression of shock mixed with the anger on his face. The force of the blow made Draco stagger a step backwards onto… nothing. Air. He lost his footing at the top of the flight of hard marble steps and flung his arms out to try to regain his balance.

Seized suddenly with the horror of what she'd done, Summer's mind filled with an image of Malfoy falling down the stairs, with nothing but the sickening crunch of bone on stone to break the silence. She grabbed one of his flailing arms and heaved his weight towards her and the safety of the landing. They stumbled and landed sprawled on the floor, both of them breathing heavily. Summer gingerly let go of the strong grip she had on Draco's arm and stood up shakily.

"Can we just agree to get through this day without killing one another?" she asked, holding a hand down to Malfoy to help him to his feet. He refused it and got up on his own.

"Fine, but that doesn't mean I have to be _nice_ to you. This is entirely your fault anyways," he grumbled.

Summer had never seen Malfoy look so disgruntled. It was strange, almost like discovering he was human, and not calmly in control all the time. "It's not my fault. I warned you, remember? Time charms will only mess it up?" They turned onto the second floor and headed down the hall.

He scoffed. "As if a Malfoy would ever take advice from _you_."

"I thought we agreed not to kill each other," Summer replied through clenched teeth.

"So?"

"So if you keep talking like that, I might just murder you by accident."

"Murder doesn't happen by accident."

"Just shut up, Malfoy."

There was a tense silence for the next few minutes and they had almost reached Dumbledore's office when a brilliant plan struck Summer. She ducked suddenly down, as though to tie her shoe. Draco went a few steps ahead of her before he realized and turned around, bringing him perfectly in range of Summer's wand which she had quickly drawn.

"Wha--?"

"_Petrificus totalus!"_ Summer said triumphantly. Malfoy's expression was priceless: his face was frozen in a mask of surprise and the life-size statue threatened to topple as he had been caught off balance. Grinning, she stowed her wand away and grabbed the Slytherin bodily by the arms, dragging him to a nearby closet.

"I think this is really for the best, Malfoy," she explained calmly. "I have to be able to focus for my exam, and having you wreaking havoc on Hogwarts is just not conducive to a good exam-writing atmosphere, don't you agree?" Finally, she propped him against a dusty shelf. "Well, I'm going to be late. Toodles!" With a cheery wave, she slammed the door in his frozen face, and raced off to her final exam.

Upon entering the Headmaster's office, she found teachers of almost every subject there: McGonagall, Flitwick, Trelawny, Sprout, and even Snape. They all hovered behind Dumbledore's desk. In front of the grand desk, where Summer had sat upon first arriving at Hogwarts, there was now a plain wooden desk with a straight-backed chair that looked very out of place. Hesitantly, Summer stepped forward to the chair.

"We will begin with the practical examination, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said, and motioned for her to step up to another table set up in the office with all sorts of magical objects. "Each professor will give a brief assignment. Your performance and the quality of work will be judged while you complete the written portion of the exam," here he indicated the uncomfortable-looking desk, "and we hope to have your results ready before Christmas Dinner in a few days." His eyes smiled kindly at her. "Now, before we begin, is there anything else?"

Summer swallowed. _No, nothing, Headmaster, I've just got a student locked in a cupboard, so how long will this take? I don't want the spell to wear off._ "No, nothing, Headmaster," she said. The rest of her thoughts ought to remain silent.

Each professor assigned her a task to test various levels of magical knowledge. Most of it went easily, although maybe Trelawny was a bit too interested to find out exactly what Summer prophesized. Flitwick had grimaced at Summer's pitiful attempt at a Summoning Charm. He assured her, however, that getting the matchbox halfway across the table did give her part marks, even if the matchbox then decided to go back to where it had been sitting before. Summer had to restrain herself from grinning outright when Snape assigned her a potion that she had brewed with him a few times, and which she knew for a fact was currently in the Hospital Wing. He nodded over her potion and said it was adequate, and Summer suppressed a grin.

Being half-finished, the professors left her to the written exam. Dumbledore ordered one of the portraits, a stuffy old man with a crooked white powdered wig, to keep watch, and then the headmaster led the staff into an adjacent room for marking Summer's progress so far. She got through most of the questions easily, and only had to fib a few dates regarding the Cave Troll Uprising of 1372, or maybe 1237, she wasn't sure which.

She glanced at the inky numbers in the top right corner of the parchment that were slowly ticking down. A quarter of an hour remained, so she got up to stretch and walk around the room. Her movement attracted the attention of the wizard in the frame.

"Don't worry, I'm not cheating," she assured him. She walked leisurely around Dumbledore's office, gently touching fragile instruments and ignoring the grumbling coming from the wigged wizard. She came at last to a dingy hat which lay discarded under a bright silver sword hanging on the wall. The rubies on the sword winked at her. An heirloom of Gryffindor's. Summer frowned, picked up the hat, and unceremoniously plunked it on her head.

"Hello?"

_You don't have to speak, I can hear you just fine,_ replied the hat.

Summer felt a bit unnerved. _Oh, _she thought with effort, _sorry._

_You're new, aren't you? But you're not young, are you? What are you doing here?_

_I'm Summer Granger, I just came –_

_Oh yes, I remember hearing them talk about you. A Gryffindor, they say. Why is that?_

Summer frowned. Why not? _Well, Hermione is a Gryffindor…_

_Yes, but that's no reason you should be. The Black's were related, yet those siblings were split into different houses. No, I would not put you in that courageous house. _Summer bristled at this. She was courageous! _Now, now, you witches and wizards have become so quick these days that you forget about old magic and good advice. So listen closely: you can have many great friends in Gryffindor, but you are not one of them. I expect you could find some comfort in the kind hearts of Hufflepuffs, but you are not one of them either._

Summer resisted an urge to sigh. Was she actually getting a lecture from a hat?

_So impatient. You've got a lot of spirit in you. Perseverant, I see, and daring too. Maybe you haven't noticed before, but you would do a lot to get what you want. Such strong ambition! Ravenclaw would suit you. And perhaps Slytherin would be best of all—_

Summer whipped the hat off her head, breathing hard. It was a lifeless, dingy brown hat. It could not tell her where to go and who her friends would be. She dropped it on a shelf, glaring furiously and chewing on her lip. Slytherin! Honestly! She returned to her seat and slumped down, much to the relief of the painting watching her. Shortly after, the headmaster returned, collected her parchment, and let her leave. Summer was glad: as soon as she chained Malfoy up somewhere to keep him safe, she could mull over this new information from the Sorting Hat. Slytherin!

"I can't believe that stupid hat. It's just a hat, Summer, just a hat," she muttered continually under her breath as she checked closets to see where she had put Draco. On her third try, she found him. "This school has entirely too many broom cupboards." She noted that his eyebrows had begun to twitch: the charm must be wearing off. "I'll have you out and about in a moment, just hang on a sec." And without further ceremony, she reached a hand into his robes. His eyebrows, the only expressive part of Malfoy, shot up. Until she pulled out his wand with glee, and his eyebrows shot down in a frown. "Wonderful," she muttered, and stowed the wand in her own pocket. Then, with a wave, she restored Malfoy to mobility.

"Give me back my wand!" Draco yelled, and charged forward. Summer only had to step back two paces before his legs, immobile for the past three hours or so, lost all function. He came crashing down with the buckets and brooms.

"Graceful, Malfoy. Truly charming," she replied coolly. In the back of her mind, she noted that her words might as well have come from a Slytherin. She picked up the package that he'd dropped, and gave it back to him as he pulled himself back together.

"My wand, Granger," he hissed, towering over her.

"No, I don't think so." Summer crossed her arms.

"I'm not going to beg, if that's what you want," Draco sneered.

"Nope. You can try, though. It would be amusing."

He huffed and puffed, and paced up and down the hall for a minute. He glanced over from the corner of his eye, as though he were sizing her up.

"Don't even think about fighting me, either," Summer said, reading his thoughts. Which made her wonder again: was she psychic? At this point, anything was possible.

Malfoy stopped and faced her. His face was fixed in a deep scowl. "Give me my wand."

"No."

His face scrunched up further.

"Don't think too hard, you might hurt yourself," Summer said cheekily. It felt good to have him so useless! Who knew a boy without a wand was so vulnerable?

"Please," he spat.

"Wow. That might have actually worked on me, if I knew you meant it," Summer said, mustering up a little bit of sincerity. "But that's not what I want."

"For Merlin's sake!" And then Malfoy continued with a string of less pleasant words.

"That's not helping."

"Would you just give me back my cursed wand already?! What do you want?"

Summer grinned. This was way too much fun. Maybe the Hat was right about Slytherin after all… Summer repressed a shudder. No. The Sorting Hat was just a hat.

"I want to know why you took Felix today," she said. Malfoy looked crestfallen. He had probably hoped for something he could actually give: money, or the like. Truth was not in his budget, apparently.

"I'm going to see Professor Snape," he said stiffly.

"Do you think that will help? Remember, the Professor told you that you deserve this," Summer said. "Now. Why did you take the potion today?"

Malfoy remained silent. Summer thought hard for a moment: clearly this wasn't working. It wasn't in his nature to be honest. But maybe if he really wanted his wand, he would confess. Or maybe, she could jog his memory somehow.

"Alright, fine. You aren't telling. I'll keep this over dinner," she said, waving Draco's wand in front of him, "and you can think about your actions." She smirked, turned, and marched down the hall. She didn't look back once until she had made it to the Gryffindor common room, but somehow, she knew that the expression on Malfoy's face would have been priceless.

Summer spent what was left of the afternoon in the empty common room, lying upside down on a couch by the fire and reading a stack of books that Hermione had left her. Not a soul disturbed her, except when Nearly Headless Nick drifted in at one point. He seemed to be looking for someone, but didn't linger, so Summer kept reading. She had gotten through the better part of a book on extensive theory of Human Transfiguration, when her stomach started grumbling. She wondered if dinner would be served as usual, or if she should go to the kitchens to find something. The Great Hall was on the way to the kitchens anyway, so she decided to stop by and see.

Summer hadn't managed to even make it to the first floor of the castle before luck sprung upon her again. On the third floor, instead of continuing down the stairs, she turned into a hall and headed towards another staircase, the one which led to the sixth floor and the moving room. If you had asked her why, Summer wouldn't be able to give you one good reason. Continuing on auto-pilot, she made her way silently to the door of the classroom. The door was open a crack, letting flickering light and swearing out into the hall. When she pried open the door, Malfoy's back was turned to her.

"Typical. I heard some colorful language, and of course it's you," she said, leaning against the doorframe.

Malfoy glared over his shoulder at her before turning back to whatever was in front of him. It looked like he was reading a book, beside which lay the unopened package. "Leave."

"That's not nice. What if I'm here to give you back your wand?"

He turned fully, looking hopeful. "Then you can give me my wand and leave."

Summer let out a short laugh. "No way. Maybe once Felix has worn off. Can I remind you that I'm partly responsible for this? I don't want to get myself expelled, you know."

An awkward silence ensued, in which Summer and Malfoy had a staring contest while he was trying to shield the items behind him as much as possible. Summer's stomach grumbled again, and Malfoy shifted his weight from foot to foot uneasily. A floorboard creaked somewhere, and the conversation of two ghosts out in the hall drifted past them. Summer's nose twitched once, twice, and then she gave an almighty sneeze.

"Dammit, will you tell me or not?!" she burst out finally, stamping her foot.

"Problem with patience, Granger?" Malfoy asked snidely.

"Shut UP!" Summer yelled. She clenched her jaw and tried a calmer tone. "Why did you take the potion today?"

Malfoy crossed his arms.

"What do you keep doing in this room all the time?" Summer asked. No response. "Is it really that important to be hiding?" Still nothing. "Do you sneak in here because you're doing so badly in Potions?" Nothing. "Are you a mute, now, is that it?" No response. Exasperated, Summer threw up her hands and groaned. "Boys!"

Another silence settled. Summer felt frustration gnawing on her insides. Her stomach grumbled again.

"I'm hungry," she announced.

"So go eat. And you can leave my wand here," Malfoy replied.

She scoffed. What she really needed, more than food, was to find out what Malfoy was doing. That would undoubtedly answer why he had taken the potion today. And the key to that information was the book on the desk behind him. She was sure of it. Now… how to get to it?

She fumed silently for another moment. She sighed and muttered under her breath, "I can see that all the pureblood inbreeding has left you completely unreasonable."

It had the desired effect. Malfoy took two terse steps forward. "What did you say?" His face was contorted into an angry scowl.

"Oh, me? Nothing, nothing," Summer said innocently. "After all, you can't help your ancestry."

"You're one to talk, mudblood."

"Foul-mouthed Malfoy. Is that the only way you can intimidate people? Is that how you convince yourself that you're better than other people? By insulting them?" Summer goaded him on.

"I am better than them. I'm a Malfoy!" He yelled indignantly, stalking forward.

"No you aren't. If you were, you'd be able to handle separation from your dear wand."

With a growl, he launched himself at her, hands outstretched for the wand. Summer ducked, Malfoy staggered and nearly tripped over her. She scrambled on hands and knees under the nearest desk.

"Get back here, coward!" he bellowed, and over-turned a desk.

Summer moved to find new cover. "Are you that pathetic that you have to resort to fighting?" she called to him.

The desk beside her was flipped and tossed to the side. Summer's heart began pounding in her ears. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. But she was almost at Malfoy's book. She steeled herself. "Come on, can't you do any better?" Somewhere behind her she heard a crash that must have been another desk sent flying. In the back of her mind, she noted that Malfoy must be furious, and probably it was amplified by Felix. She lunged for the next desk: the one with the book.

At the same time, Malfoy had reached her hiding place and shoved the desk away. Summer was half-out before her feet caught on the sliding desk, and Malfoy seized her arm. Her free arm managed to grab the book, but it slipped from her fingers and landed upside-down with a loud thud on the ground. In an instant, she read the title: it was the same book as she had been reading in the common room, the one on Human Transfiguration. Realization struck.

Summer fought Malfoy off and got him to release her arm by digging her nails into his wrist. He yelped in pain, and they backed away from each other, circling like boxers.

"What are you doing, Draco?" Summer asked, breathing hard. "Are you crazy? Bad luck, and you're trying to transfigure yourself? It's not the best idea."

"You don't know what you're talking about," he growled. "Give me my wand back."

Summer paused her pacing. What if she did give his wand back? How bad could it be? After all, Snape had told him that he deserved what was coming. Then she thought about her guilty conscience. She still wasn't convinced. Felix was fickle when the potion went wrong, and they could easily end up in the Hospital Wing. "No," she replied finally. "I can't do that. You'll only hurt yourself."

"You don't know anything!" he yelled, and leapt at her again.

She jumped away from him, towards the far door: the moving exit. The only trouble was that between her and a safe escape was the heavy book, the table, and the unopened package. Malfoy was too quick, and managed to grab a hold on the back of her robes. He pulled back hard, sending Summer crashing to the floor, tripping over the discarded book and taking the table down with her. Malfoy was on her in a split second, and she grabbed the nearest object to hit him with. It was the package, which felt nice and heavy in her hands. It made a satisfying thud when she slammed it on the top of Malfoy's head (feeling only the slightest bit of pity). His grip loosened immediately while he groaned in pain and Summer bolted for the door. Now that she knew what he was doing, she didn't see any need to further endanger herself by hanging around. She tore the door open, ready to dart out and slam it shut before Malfoy could follow her.

A panicked shout made her turn. Malfoy was jumping over desks and scattered belongings, being pursued by some flashing object. Summer realized with horror what it was: a sharp, yet ironically beautiful, knife. It must have come from the package, which had torn open after it's collision with Malfoy's head.

Malfoy ran past her, doing laps around the room. "Do something!"

She stared dumbly. "But what?" A million spells were running through her head, but all of them were from the recent exams, and not a single one seemed applicable in a situation where you'd like to stop a possessed knife from killing you. Well, at this point, she couldn't imagine the situation getting any worse, so she decided maybe the best solution would be to give Draco his wand back. "Draco, catch!" she yelled, and threw the wand across to him.

Summer should have known that this wasn't the best idea, but the entire day was turning so fatalistic that she should have expected the worst. Still, her opinion of Malfoy sank lower as he performed his first wand magic of this unlucky day.

He raised the wand, not to fend off the dancing dagger, but to himself, and muttered a long and complex spell. By the end of it, the wand had fallen from his grasp and the dagger had stopped and was hanging uncertainly in the air before him. His nose grew longer while his body shrank, some hair receding backwards into his scalp and new hair sprouting from his eyebrows and spreading over every bit of skin. Somehow, miraculously, it appeared that the magic had not gone wrong in any unlucky sort of way. Within seconds, a small white fox had appeared where Malfoy had once stood.

Both the cursed knife and Summer wavered uncertainly. The dagger was probably simply confused by the metamorphosis, but Summer was trying to pick out which emotion should dominate. She was amazed that he had managed to accomplish such advanced magic, shocked that it hadn't turned into bad luck, outraged that he had gone and used magic anyway, angry that Malfoy had essentially become a coward and decided to hide, and terrified, because although transfiguration could confuse the knife, it would probably only work for a moment.

In the end, terror was the emotion that ruled Summer because the knife had discerned that the boy and the fox were one and the same and had begun to chase again. Summer sprinted after the pair, desperate to get between the knife and the fox. With the luck that Malfoy was having, the knife would also be poisoned, and also cause extreme pain because of the transfiguration. She clambered over desks and chairs, noting with regret that they were heading towards the door, and if she missed them, there was no chance of finding the unlucky boy in Hogwarts.

Summer got there in the nick of time: it was a three-way collision at the exit door. The fox had arrived first, followed by Summer who yanked open the door. The dagger, unnaturally aware of what actions were being taken, sliced across the back of Summer's hand. And then they were out in a new hallway, from the looks of it still somewhere on a higher floor, with the fox and dagger escaping first because they were both small and nimble. In that extra moment, the knife was quick enough to slice a clean cut across the fox's back. The creature let out a half-human cry and collapsed on the stone floor. Summer seized the knife and as soon as her skin hit the handle, it lost all potency and fell with a dull clatter: hardly more dangerous than a letter-opener.

Bright shiny red blood came oozing out of the wound far too quickly to be reasonably safe. Finally, it seemed that the sweeping black Hogwarts robes were actually useful for something: dealing with wounds. Summer took hers off and wrapped it around the trembling animal, momentarily forgetting that it was a person. She noticed that her hand was stinging horribly and strange green foam was starting to form over the cut. Panic filled her.

All that could be heard in the hall was Summer's quick breathing and the whimpers from the fox.

_What to do, what to do, what to do?_ She thought. In a totally irrational move, the waved her wand, only concentrating on the fact that she needed to contact someone, _quick_. A small creature struggled from the tip of her wand. Summer let out a short, harsh laugh: it was a paper bird. The animated origami landed on the fingers of her wounded hand, which was grasping hers and Malfoy's wands.

Summer took a shaky breath and spoke to the bird. "To Severus Snape." This was crazy, she thought, but continued anyway. "Draco's been injured by some sort of cursed object. I'm going to the Hospital Wing, but I don't know how much Madam Pomfrey can do. Meet us there." The bird seemed to understand that the message was done, and fluttered off down the hall. She picked up the knife with her cut hand, now struggling to hold on to three objects with fingers that were going numb. Summer cradled the bundled animal with her good hand and set off towards help.

But of course, the rotten Felix Felicis was not so kind to Malfoy nor Summer. The magic of the transfiguration weakened as Malfoy's condition got worse. At times, the animal would cry out in a human voice, or the weight would suddenly increase to that of a human, or limbs would take on their human shape. Summer thought she must have been crazy to have willingly taken on the responsibility of keeping an eye on the unlucky boy. At this point, all she wanted was sleep, but she continued on, staggering as the fox shape-shifted constantly in her arms.

Panting, sweating, with streaks of blood decorating her cloths, and looking like a mess, Summer dragged herself towards the door. Thankfully, Snape and Madam Pomfrey rushed to the students as soon as they appeared at the door, leading Summer to a cot.

"Where's Draco?" Snape asked briskly. Summer looked down at the fox shaking in her lap. Understanding passed between them. "Madam Pomfrey, get the Headmaster." The nurse let go of Summer's hand which she had been examining, and ran to her office. Snape took the wrapped animal and placed it on the next cot. His face was unreadable, void of fury or concern.

Summer's concentration wavered, and for the next few minutes or hours, she didn't quite know what was going on. Probably, it was because of the poison on the dagger, which was taken from her at some point. Dumbledore and McGonagall had shown up, and asked more questions than Summer could comprehend.

Eventually, her hand was doused with some painful stinging liquid and wrapped. While the professors frowned and speculated over Malfoy, Summer quietly slid off the bed and crept out of the ward. She wandered the castle for a while, aware that she should probably eat, eventually, and get to her bed, eventually. Too many thoughts were buzzing around her tired, stressed brain. Malfoy, the potion, the shape-shifting, the strange images from the smoking pot, and how it all fit bizarrely together. The Sorting Hat telling her she belonged in Slytherin, which seemed like so long ago. What Christmas would be like if she was still at home, and if Harry Potter had never broken her television.

When she finally opened a door, she was hardly surprised to find that she was standing on the threshold of the Room of Requirement. It had taken on the shape of her living room with all the decorations which would be up in her home across the Atlantic. A tree stood on one side of the fireplace, her unbroken TV was on the other side. Never had her run-down tacky plaid couch looked so inviting. Exhaustion settled into Summer's bones and she gladly flopped down on the couch. She was asleep before her head hit the cushions.


	16. Christmas

Sorry for the delay. Life... it catches up with you sometimes. Anyway, a bit of a strange chapter, but I just had to tie together a few ends, and make some new ones... you'll see.

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Sixteen: Christmas**

Summer awoke with the disconcerting feeling of being in two places at once. If you haven't ever had the misfortune of waking up in two places at once, imagine that half-dreaming state where you're awake but not conscious: that was how Summer felt when she struggled to her feet, yawned hugely, and looked around at her pseudo-living room.

A colorful Christmas tree, an unbroken TV set, a horrid plaid couch: everything was as it should be. So what had happened? She shook her head, rubbed her eyes, and yawned again. Had it all been a dream? Still, it didn't feel quite like _her _living room. Something was uncomfortable about it. Summer figured that she would have better luck putting her finger on this elusive sense if she got some coffee, so she stood and--

--stepped directly onto something long and pointy, and definitely not part of the carpet. She looked down and frowned.

"Ah," she said. "That explains it." She had stepped on two wands, and suddenly the fog in her head cleared: all of yesterday's bad luck came rushing back. Summer kind of wished the fog would return, so that she could forget about foxes, daggers, smoke and hats. Summer picked up the wands, and the unopened letter from her mother, and took a last look around the room before leaving for the Gryffindor Tower.

On the way, she tore open the letter and read it as she walked through the silent castle. It was full of the usual: motherly concerns over well-being, profuse amounts of advice, best wishes for the holidays, and a desperate plea to write home more frequently. Summer felt a pang of guilt for not coming home for Christmas. Determined to be cheerful after the catastrophic previous day, Summer forced a smile. Sure, she was alone in a huge castle with nothing but teachers for company, and a boy-fox who got into trouble. But, there was also a library, and she could definitely use all her free time to get a head start on the next semester. Maybe some of the teachers would even tutor her a bit.

She winced at the thought: if nothing else proved that Summer was really related to Hermione, her eagerness to learn was a clear indicator of their relation. Summer continued on her way, caught up in her plans for the holiday, uninterrupted until she had crossed the common room and was at the stairs leading to her dormitory.

"Summer?"

The sound of her name caught her so by surprise that she missed a step and fumbled for her footing. She cleared her throat nonchalantly and turned to face the speaker, trying to act as though, of course, she had known all along that somebody else was here.

"Harry?" she asked, stunned. She had been so sure that he had gone with Ron for Christmas! Her mind jumped to conclusions. "Oh no! The train _did_ derail, didn't it? And the Hogwarts Express is finished, forever?" She glanced around for others, but the common room was empty. "But where's everyone else?"

"Er… right," Harry said uncertainly. "I don't know what you're talking about, as far as I know the train is fine." Slowly, carefully, and making sure to use small words, he explained. "I'm staying here, at Hogwarts, for Christmas. Not going on the train." He waved his hands sideways to indicate the negative.

"Oh," she said, and a furious blush swept her cheeks. "Well, now I feel like an idiot." She cleared her throat. Awkward situation, to say the least. "So… I'll just be on my way."

"Wait! I didn't see you at all yesterday, is everything alright?"

"Alright? Of course it's alright. Everything's fine. Perfect. Not unlucky or bad in any way at all. Why do you ask?" She laughed nervously. How did gossip get around the school so quickly when there were no students to spread it?

"Oh, good. I thought maybe something had gone badly during your exam."

"Oh! Right! My exam." This made much more sense to Summer. She would prefer that nobody knew about yesterday's bad luck, and her role in all of it.

"How did it go?" Harry prodded.

"Alright," she shrugged. To be honest, she couldn't remember much of it. The rest of the day had been much more eventful than her exam.

"When do you get the results?" he persisted.

Summer frowned. "I really don't want to think about it. Before Christmas, I think that's what Dumbledore said."

Silence settled between them, and Summer kicked at the floorboard for a minute.

"Right. Well, see you later," she finally said. It was punctuated by a particularly loud grumble from her stomach. Summer could literally feel the redness on her face this time. What was _wrong_ with her today? But before she could properly drown in her embarrassment, she heard Harry chuckle.

"I thought you missed breakfast," Harry said. "But I didn't know you were that hungry. It's almost as bad as Ron."

Summer grinned. "You don't know the half of it. I missed dinner too."

He was kind enough to suggest visiting the kitchens. Summer wholeheartedly took him up on his offer and they headed off once she had refreshed herself (after all, she had been in the same clothes for 24 hours now). In no time, they were sitting in the kitchen, surrounded by scurrying house-elves, laughing and talking. Or at least, Harry was doing most of the talking while Summer joyously shoved food down her throat.

"Dobby?" called Harry into the melee. One house elf jumped up eagerly from his work and weaved through the kitchen. Within seconds, he was at Harry's elbow. "Could I get another pumpkin juice?"

"Of course, Harry Potter, sir!"

"Meuh foo!" Summer struggled to speak around a mouthful of orange. She swallowed hastily, and tried again, "Me too, please."

Dobby had been in the act of dashing off but stopped. His nose wobbled and tears pooled in his eyes. "Harry Potter has such wonderful friends! Dobby is not deserving such kindness!"

Summer shook her head in disbelief. "I'm muggleborn, Dobby. We weren't raised to be cruel," she said, waving a hand at herself and Harry.

This sparked a discussion of their muggle lives, and how they both had felt when coming to Hogwarts for the first time. Although Summer knew that Harry's situation was much like her own, she still managed to be surprised every few minutes. She kept saying things like, "You're family did _what _when they found out?" and "_Oh!_ I didn't know what that was either!" Harry grinned amiably and answered all her questions.

"What was your first reaction?" Summer asked, and then bit into a cookie. She didn't think she would ever get tired of eating.

"I couldn't believe it," he said. "But when it finally sunk in… I dunno. I just… felt new. Like the world had turned upside down and now I was on the right side."

"Like the world was your oyster," Summer said, wisely. "Ooh! Oysters!" She was filled suddenly with a craving and raised a hand to flag down Dobby, but another elf appeared with her request before she could open her mouth. "Hey, thanks! You guys are so quick at this!"

The little elf, who was actually quite tall for a house elf, bowed low until his long, pointy nose touched the ground. "Hogwarts elves pride themselves on being the best."

Summer laughed. "I like you," she said. This elf's frank and relatively up-beat attitude enthralled her. "What's your name?"

The elf came out of the bow and his purplish eyes met hers. "Hoppit, madam, at your service," and he swept into another bow.

"Hoppit? Like the… nevermind," Summer waved the thought away. "Thanks, Hoppit, for the oysters. I'm Summer Granger."

"You are most welcome, Summer Granger. I shall serve you whensoever you may feel the need." Hoppit bowed yet again, but this time with more restraint, and disappeared again into the bowels of the kitchen.

Summer smirked. "He was unusually verbiose."

Harry smiled, although it seemed tinged with sadness. "Must be from a better family than Dobby's." His eyes lost focus, as though he were seeing his memories. But then he blinked, and it was gone. "How did you feel when you first found out?"

Summer laughed again. "I fainted," she said simply. It was enough explanation, and it sent them both into chuckles again. Summer's smile didn't leave her face the whole time: this was more than she had laughed in a long time, and it felt really good to be stress-free for a while.

Summer spent the last two days before Christmas dividing her time equally between the library and the common room. Harry teased her about studying so much, but she justified it with a simple crossing of the arms: the gesture spoke for itself. Anyone else in her position would also be studying. During her breaks, she would pick up books on telepathy and those types of things, found in a particularly dusty section of the library. It made her think that nobody had been psychic for a very long time, and so again she doubted her supposed abilities. Flipping through the books didn't shed any light whatsoever on her situation, except providing a few tests for checking if there was a chance that you were psychic. Summer considered recruiting Harry to help her, but then thought better of it. If it ended up being that she was wrong, it would be utterly humiliating.

Instead, when she was with Harry they spent their time playing games. He taught her Wizard's Chess, and she taught him muggle card tricks. She learned the chess quickly, and vowed to play a game with Ron when he returned. Harry, on the other hand, proved completely incapable of understanding how the card tricks worked, and demanded that she lay her wand on the table, to prove she wasn't doing it by real magic. Summer tried to explain the math and logic behind the cards, but to no avail.

Her meals were usually spent in the common room. Occasionally, she would venture into the Great Hall for a meal, but it was always at odd hours of the day or night, and always empty. That was why she was totally unaware if any other students were at the castle for the holidays, or where Malfoy was. So it came as a surprise to her when, on Christmas Eve morning, she stood in front of the door to Dumbledore's office, ready to receive her marks, and heard a young voice.

Curiousity nibbled at her and she brought her ear close to the door. She caught what sounded like the very end of a conversation.

"… just not me anymore. I can't explain any better," said a boy's voice in frustration.

Summer almost jumped. That was Harry, she was certain.

"I understand, my boy, believe me. It's called intuition," Dumbledore replied. Though there was no way to be sure, she thought his eyes would be twinkling with a mixture of kindness, understanding, and humour.

She heard the scraping of a chair.

"Now, Harry, I think it would be best if you left. I have the feeling that someone is waiting for me," said the headmaster.

This time, Summer really did jump back from the door. How did he know? An irrational thought flitted through her mind: maybe Dumbledore was psychic. She shook her head to clear it, and looked up as the door opened. Harry met her eyes briefly with a serious gaze. Summer wondered what they had been talking about if it made her fellow Gryffindor so pensive on Christmas Eve.

She didn't have time to dwell on the issue. Dumbledore was ushering her in, and the moment she was seated, he set out a long roll of parchment and unraveled it. Slowly, and she thought, tediously, the headmaster began going through the writing. It was comments made by the professors with regards to her exam and progress throughout the term. Nothing was too surprising, except perhaps the high marks in Potions and Divination. Regardless, it was a half hour that Summer would have preferred to spend somewhere else, like maybe eating in the kitchens.

"…for your schedule next year," Dumbledore finished, leaning back in his chair.

"Wait, what?" Summer snapped back to attention. "Next year?"

The headmaster's mouth twitched into a smile, evidently pleased to catch Summer off her guard and not paying attention. "Yes, Miss Granger, next year. Hogwarts would do well to keep a student like you. We never know what another year might bring." That last bit sounded darkly ominous. "Besides," he added brightly, "what would your parents say if you only attend school for a year?"

_They would be thrilled that I've regained my sanity. _ Summer opened her mouth to say just that. "They wouldn't be thrilled. They would want me to stay." She blinked once, twice, and put her hand to her mouth as though to double-check that she had spoken. That wasn't what Summer meant to say at all! She suspected magic, but bit her lip and stayed quiet. Her parents would have to give written permission, so it didn't matter what she said now.

"I'm glad we've reached agreement. Now then, dinner?" Dumbledore stood and opened the door for her.

The walk to the Great Hall was quiet. Summer half-turned to ask Dumbledore about next year, but the innocent smile on his face silenced her. _Can anything else go wrong?_ She was starting to wonder. Then she remembered who she would encounter in the Great Hall, if he hadn't gone home yet: Malfoy. And, Malfoy's wand. Putting two and two together, Summer sighed, knowing that she could expect a foul mood from Malfoy. This was going to be a very strange Christmas. What she wouldn't give to be at home instead! Even despite all the dangers of traveling!

Upon entering the Great Hall, Summer forgot what Christmas at home would look like. Here, at Hogwarts, Christmas was more than festive. It was like an explosion of cheer. Ribbons, bows, garlands, holly, poinsettias covered every surface. Mistletoe hung here and there, and snow glittered in the candlelight as it drifted down from the ceiling. The Christmas tree, which had been well-decorated before, had now been buried under so many baubles that it was hard to find a single patch of green.

In the center of the hall was a single, large table festooned with more glitter and ribbon between the glistening dishes. Several of the professors were already there, including Flitwick, McGonagall, Trelawney, Sprout, Sinistra, and Hagrid. Madam Pince and Filch also made a rare appearance.

Summer sat in the chair that Dumbledore offered her, grinning. Across the table from her was tiny Professor Flitwick. "You've really outdone yourself this time, Professor."

"This is nothing, you should have seen the Yule Ball," Harry said, sliding into the seat next to hers.

Happy chatter broke out among the adults. It was only a bit awkward since Harry and Summer were the only students, but he asked her lots of questions about the meeting with Dumbledore, so it was alright. Summer was reminded of his own meeting with the headmaster, and wanted to ask about it, but was interrupted by a huge bang.

The talk at the table stopped, and everyone looked towards the entrance. Snape was sweeping into the room, moody and angry as usual, followed by Malfoy, sulking and looking just as moody and angry as his Head of House. The two Slytherins took the remaining seats: Snape by Sinistra, and Malfoy by the only other students, leaving the young people fairly isolated. Apparently they were the only three kids left at Hogwarts for Christmas. Conversations picked up again quietly, and after Dumbledore whispered something in Snape's ear, the Potionsmaster even tried not to frown. He wasn't very successful.

Malfoy was still frowning, and was about to round on Summer and vent some of his frustration, but a strange choking sound made everything go quiet again.

The sound was accompanied by clinking sounds. The source was Professor Trelawney, who was flapping her hands and making vague gestures, apparently too shocked to spit out her words.

"Is something the matter?" Dumbledore asked.

After another moment of flapping, the Divination professor calmed down and finally revealed what was so important.

"Thirteen! Oh Albus, thirteen! Wherever thirteen gather--"

"Not again," Harry muttered under his breath. Trelawney continued to rant while others desperately tried to quite her down.

"Again? What does she mean?" Summer asked.

"Every time thirteen people gather, she says that one of them will die within a year," he answered, shaking his head. "A few years ago, she did the same thing. It's ridiculous."

"Oh," Summer said, scanning the table and counting. The professor was right, there were thirteen of them. "Well, did anyone die last time?"

Harry chewed thoughtfully on a chipolata. "No," he replied with a shrug, and continued to eat.

Summer stared at her Divination professor, wondering if the woman had any forecasting talents at all. And if she, herself had any psychic abilities.

Not long after Trelawney's prediction, Malfoy began pestering Summer, nudging her and trying to get her attention. She hadn't yet figured out exactly what to do, so she persistently ignored him, until he started tugging on her sleeve. It would be funny and childish, but it made eating really hard, and only served to annoy her.

"Stop it!" she hissed quietly, and scooted her chair away from him. "So, Harry, how's the Quidditch season going?" she asked in a loud voice.

"Pretty well, but there's still a long way to go before the finals," he replied earnestly.

"And when are those?" Summer continued.

"Before exams, once the weather gets warmer," said Harry in her right ear.

In her left ear, Malfoy was now trying to get her attention with threats. "Granger, listen to me, dammit, or I'll--"

"What if there's a hurricane?" Summer was running out of things to talk about, she didn't know much about the wizard sport. And it was hard to think properly when Malfoy was buzzing around like an annoying gnat. She inched further from him.

Harry laughed. "A hurricane? I don't think so. But we'd play in a hurricane if we had to. Hermione's figured out this spell that keeps broom handles from getting too slippery--"

"Granger, come on, I'm dying here--" Malfoy was whining.

"Yes, I've heard of that spell," Summer said, nodding vigorously, even though she had no idea what Harry was talking about.

"Oh, I forgot to ask, but do you still need help with lessons for the next term?" Harry asked.

"Hmm?" It took Summer a minute to snap back to attention. "Right, yeah, probably. I'm still not at a Sixth-Year level, y'know?" She stuffed a potato in her mouth, hoping that the chewing would block out Malfoy's pestering. It didn't.

"Granger. Granger!" he was almost growling now, but quietly, as though to keep his Head of House from over-hearing.

She waved her hand impatiently at him, swatting him away like a fly. "What kind of stuff will I have to learn, Harry?"

"I expect you'd have to learn all the OWL stuff. Hermione might have to help you with some of it, especially History of Magic--"

"GRANGER!" Malfoy had had it. Now he was on his feet, yelling, and everyone stared at him. "For Merlin's sake, stop ignoring me and treating me like some Mug--" He cut off abruptly, and glanced quickly at the disapproving expression on Dumbledore's face.

There was an awkward silence. Most of the teachers were annoyed, Trelawney looked confused and a bit frightened, Hagrid looked like he wanted to punch Malfoy, and Snape was seething. The rage practically rolled off of him in waves. Summer was bewildered.

"Outside. Now," said Snape, venom practically dripping from his voice. He stalked out of the Great Hall. Malfoy looked undecided and pissed off. "Now!" barked his teacher. Finally he followed him out. Snape was holding the door open, and stayed there after Malfoy had passed through. "Miss Granger, you as well, if you please," he said in a marginally less evil tone.

Summer swallowed, and was sure that the whole table could hear her gulp. Was now the moment when she would pay the consequences of Felix Felicitis? She didn't think so, but wasn't thrilled about this situation either.

"Ahem. Yes. Well, thank you for the dinner, it was lovely," she said, in a forcefully polite voice. She stood up. "Have a Happy Christmas," she said to the table. Only once she was at the door did hushed voices start up at the table.

In the hallway, Malfoy was pacing and looking like murder. As soon as the door to the Great Hall thudded shut, he exploded again.

"What happened?! What did you do? What did you say?! And where's my bloody WAND?!" He advanced on her, but Summer stubbornly stood her ground, arms crossed.

"It's your own mess, you figure it out!"

"Where. Is. My. WAND?!" He shook her by the shoulders.

"Lay _off_, Malfoy," she spat, and broke free.

A quiet clearing of the throat made them both shut up.

"Draco, control yourself," Snape said. His overly calm tone sounded more dangerous than Malfoy's shouting. "Remember what we were discussing earlier. Now, Miss Granger, no doubt you share my opinion that being wandless is sufficient punishment. However, it is illegal. Please return the wand, and I assure you that I will deal with Draco's irrationality."

Summer was quite pleased: it looked as though Snape wasn't angry with her at all. It was nice to not be yelled at. Anyway, against her better judgment, the wand would have to be given back. She sighed and turned her back to them, intending to go to the Gryffindor tower.

"Hey, where do you think you're going?" Draco demanded.

"Use a Summoning Charm," Snape said. He was starting to sound impatient, either with her or with Draco, or with this whole stupid situation.

"I can't. I'm lousy at _Accio," _she admitted, unsuccessfully fighting off a blush. Summer didn't want to meet their eyes. How humiliating.

"Very well. Bring it to my office as soon as possible," Snape said in a clipped tone, and took Draco forcefully by the arm, dragging him down to the dungeons.

Summer was sulking. She trudged all the way up to the tower, pouted through the empty common room, slammed the door of the dormitory, and told off the Fat Lady on the way out. She was getting sick of sulking, to be honest. That whole incident with Felix had happened days ago, and she'd been worrying about it nearly non-stop. Summer stood before the door to Snape's office a moment, gathering her strength. Why did it always feel like a confrontation when she had to see both the Potionsmaster and the Slytherin boy at the same time? It was nearly like war. _Well,_ she thought, half-serious, _there is the House Cup…_

The office was eerily silent. Malfoy was torn between anxiety, forced calm, and aggravation, while Snape merely stood menacingly at his desk.

Summer, feeling absurdly childish, stepped forward and held out the wand. It was snatched up immediately, and Draco cradled it protectively to his chest. Summer stuck out her tongue at him and made a face. He scowled.

And then Snape cleared his throat and said, none too politely, "How very mature."

"Sorry, sir." Summer shuffled her feet. "So… how… have your holidays been?" Awkward it may have been, but Summer couldn't think of a single thing to say.

"Eventful, to say the least. It has recently come to my attention that one of our students is an Animagus." Snape glared pointedly at Draco. "But before that… Malfoy. You have something to say." It wasn't a question, and Draco's scowl just deepened.

The blond boy muttered something under his breath.

"What?" Summer asked, confused.

"Ididn'tmeantoimplyyoureamudbloodsosorry," he spat out.

"Oh…?" It took a moment for the sentence to sink in. "Oh." Summer let the sentence swirl around her brain for another minute. Imply? Before she could say anything, Snape stalked forward.

"That will suffice. You are no doubt aware by now that learning to be an Animagus is not part of the curriculum. At Hogwarts we tend to teach more… 'useful' things," he sneered. "As such, this incident will remain confidential until such time as Draco may be certified as an adult wizard. It is expected that this matter be treated with discretion." He fixed the students with a glare that rivaled a basilisk's. "Surely you can manage such a simple task?"

There was mumbled acquiescence.

The professor nodded tersely. "Miss Granger, withholding wands from other students is illegal. You would do well to keep that in mind. You have also done exceptional work on your exam. This does not mean that you may relax. Expect no leniency in the new year. And some civility between the two of you would not be amiss, either." Once again, they received the glare-of-death. "You may go."

With an overly exaggerated sweep of his arm, Draco allowed Summer through the door first. Had she looked back, she might have caught the uncharacteristic smirk cross Snape's face.

As soon as the door had creaked closed behind them, Draco shoved her up against the nearest wall and put his wand to her throat.

"If you ever – _ever_- take my wand again, I swear to Merlin you won't live to see the light of day," he hissed.

Summer was tempted to be terrified. She considered the option of fear for about 1.4 seconds, and then put it aside. Too much of her time had already been spent on fear and worry. She settled for angry instead.

"I saved your _life_, you idiot. Show some respect, or at least some gratitude." She ducked beneath his arm and strode confidently down the hall.

He sputtered for a moment before giving chase. "You can't just walk away!"

"Oh? I can strut, if you prefer," she said, oozing sarcasm.

There was a brooding silence as they walked. Summer found herself wandering up and out, to the chilly halls by the courtyard, Draco trailing her steps. She sank down onto an icy stone ledge, crossed her arms, and glared out at the snow drifting peacefully to the ground.

"Lovely Christmas," Malfoy said bitterly, glowering while he leant against the cool stones.

"Hmm. Get any nice gifts?"

"Yeah. A poisoned dagger from my dad. Too bad it was used on me," he spat. His grey eyes clouded with anger and, Summer noted with a shock, hurt.

She sighed. "Do you know why?"

In another unusual move, Draco rubbed his forehead. This display of weakness made Summer raise an eyebrow. _So he's not a robot after all._

"Yes. Don't ask."

"Oh." She didn't push it. There wasn't any trust between them, anyways. "How's your back?"

"Fine." The way his jaw clenched suggested he was lying. Summer knew. The cut on her left hand had blistered the first few days, and the angry red was only now starting to subside. And it stung and prickled every time the skin stretched.

"You'll probably have a scar," she said. "At least it's a cool story to tell."

"What?" he snapped.

"You know. A story. Because girls love scars, apparently."

"No," he said, shaking his head. "How do you know there's a scar?" Malfoy raised a suspicious eyebrow.

She gave him a disbelieving look, and held up her hand. "My own lovely battle scar. Got it saving an ungrateful git."

He stared at her hand for a long moment, then looked back out at the courtyard.

Summer had been expecting an apology. Or some acknowledgement of her help. But this small voice that was vouching for Draco's humanity was squashed.

"Right-o. Well, it's been fun," she said. Summer slid off the ledge and sped off down the hall. With any luck, she could just avoid him for the rest of the holiday and maybe the rest of the school year too. It was much too awkward.

It seemed that after the horror of Felix, the universe had finally taken pity on Summer, and allowed her a relatively normal break. By "relatively," this meant exorbitant amounts of fruitcake and tea, a new jumper from her parents, Exploding Snap, and an unexpected gift from Luna: something that looked like a plain glass sphere, but turned orange and let out smoke if you held it too long. Occasionally it fizzled, too. Luna called it a Wonder-Worker, although its purpose (and wonder) remained unknown to Summer.

There were only three (more) strange things that happened. Summer was beginning to think it was just a part of life at Hogwarts.

The first occurred in the library. Having steadily read her way through most of the books on telepathy and omniscience and all manner of divination, she had amassed a list of tests that could be done to discover one's 'Eye'. She had, unfortunately, passed each test with flying colors. Anything from guessing the next card in a deck, to having three lines on the palm going from the Mercurian mound to the thumb. Summer had it all, which explained her visions of letter-openers and small animals: it had been a warning about fox-Malfoy and the dagger.

The second had to do with that same Slytherin. Summer had discovered that most house elves wouldn't mind a human in the kitchen. Driven by a craving for cookies, she had gone to ask Hoppit. It ended up with her getting a lesson in baking real Scottish shortbread from the elf. Halfway through Summer's third batch, and elbow-deep in butter, Malfoy had waltzed into the kitchens, asking for food. Or, to be more precise, demanding to be fed.

"Just give me a bunch of whatever is baking," he said, not even looking at any of the elves.

"Manners, Malfoy?" Summer said, frowning.

He looked highly amused to see her, dusted with flour and frazzled. "You work in the kitchens now, Granger? How charming." He strolled over to inspect her cookies. With all the finesse of a hungry teenaged boy, he shoved one in his mouth and made a big show of wrinkling his nose in distaste. "Positively awful."

"I think they're wonderful," Summer replied haughtily and went back to work. But out of the corner of her eye, she noticed him swipe a few more before leaving.

The third strange occurrence was on the very last day of the winter break. Summer was lounging in the common room, reclined on a couch with a book held half-heartedly in one hand. The fire was making her drowsy and she skimmed the lines without really seeing the words. She didn't even look up when the portrait hole opened and Harry came in.

He came to stand by her, staring blankly into the fire, and took a seat once she had shifted. He didn't even say anything, just sat fixated on the flames.

"'s wrong?" Summer slurred, the book falling from her limp hands.

"Nothing."

Summer yawned hugely. 'Nothing' was always wrong, when you're Harry Potter. _I bet he went to see Dumbledore_, she thought.

"I went to see Dumbledore," Harry finally admitted.

"And?"

"I'm confused."

"About?"

Harry hesitated.

Summer closed her eyes, fighting a losing battle with sleep. "Hmm… Voldemort."

"Yeah."

"Because he's not hunting you down." It wasn't a question.

"Yeah… hang on, how did you know?" Harry turned to look at her.

She cracked open one eye. "Psychic," she replied, half-shrugged, and rested her head against his shoulder. Maybe she should have felt that it was inappropriate, but such things tend to be ignored when sleep is your most pressing concern.

"Really?"

"Who cares?"

The crackling fire was not helping Summer stay awake. Neither was Harry's shoulder, which proved to be a rather comfortable pillow.

"I just don't know -- "

"Harry."

"What?"

"Don't worry." Summer hauled herself upright. "Be happy." She stood, stretched, yawned for the umpteenth time. "Good night," she said, ruffling his hair.

Once Summer had disappeared up the girls' stairs, Harry ran a hand through his hair, and thought about how strange she was. Was she really psychic? Sitting with her by the fire had detached him from his problems. She was right: who cared if she was psychic, or about Voldemort. Her drowsiness and calm had rubbed off on him. Harry fell into bed and was asleep instantly, his mind peaceful and imagining fingers running through his hair.

Which was why, later that night, when the Dark Lord checked in on Harry, he saw the girl in Potter's dreams. The same girl who had been looking so concerned that last time when Voldemort had tried to see through the boy's eyes. The same girl who, apparently, was nothing more than an ordinary mudblood. Lucius' son had been wrong. She was not average, not mediocre, and certainly not 'nothing.' Voldemort felt a thrill of satisfaction. Potter's weakness had been found. Now it only had to be exploited.


	17. Taking On The Mantle

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Seventeen: Taking on the Mantle**

"… and then I blew his ears up!"

The four of them burst into raucous laughter. Harry, Hermione, Ron and Summer were trying to ignore the piles of books and parchment in front of them by telling each other the stories of magic-gone-wrong back when they were children. It was the third week of January, but already Hermione had convinced them that they should spend their lunch studying in the common room.

"But your dad's alright. How did you get them back on?" Hermione asked Ron.

He snorted, eyes shining as he remembered. "We had some trouble telling him what was wrong… couldn't hear a thing. But Mum sorted him out in the end. Found the ears in the sink, took him to St. Mungo's. Oh, but it was priceless… the look on his face." Ron sighed happily. "One of my best bits of magic, I have to say."

"If that's your best…" Summer raised an eyebrow, letting the light insult speak for itself.

Ron laughed. "Alright then, let's hear one of yours!"

Suddenly Summer was embarrassed. "Well… it's not like that… I mean, I didn't grow up around magic," she stuttered, trying to find an excuse. "I've really never done anything. If anything ever happened, it was more like déjà-vu than real magic."

"What you mean to say is that you were just a Squib until you came to Hogwarts, right?" Harry asked. This time it was the rest of them, laughing at her.

Summer swatted his arm in annoyance. "Not at all!" Their laughter died down into chuckles. "Oh fine! Be that way. I'm going to the library. To study." She could still hear their laughter and Ron starting the next story as the portrait closed behind her.

But instead of going to the library, Summer headed up. She would have just enough time to get up to the Divination classroom and then to Transfiguration without anyone noticing. As she huffed and puffed up the numerous stairs, she thought of what, precisely, she could ask Trelawney. She thought she might start with 'hello', and see how it went from there.

"Er… hello Professor," Summer said once she had climbed up into the empty classroom.

The Divination professor jumped, startled, and sloshed half of her tea onto the gauzy scarves draped from her limbs. She recovered quickly. "Ah, my dear, at last you've come!" she said, swooped forward like some chiffon-obsessed bird. "I saw that you would be visiting me, so I thought you might like some tea." The woman herded Summer towards a low, spindly-legged table, and produced another teacup.

Summer resisted the urge to snort. At the very least, all the noise she had made coming up the ladder should have warned Trelawney. Apparently not.

"Yes, thank you," she said politely. "I just wanted to ask --"

"No, no!" She waved her hands, setting her beads clinking and trailing a scarf through her teacup. "There is no need to explain! One cannot help such things… of course I'll be more than happy to help you with your love life. A young woman's Eye is often clouded when it is introspective."

"Oh!" Summer blushed fiercely. One thing she did not need was a love life, much less advice from Trelawney on her non-existent romantic interests. "That's very kind, but I actually was concerned about --"

"Your brother? Yes, he is quite fine. At the moment, anyway. You might want to check up on him in early February, though."

"Er… I don't have a brother."

Professor Trelawney sipped her tea and tried to pretend she hadn't heard Summer.

"How do you know if you've really got the Eye?" Summer blurted, taking advantage of the moment of silence.

Trelawney looked affronted. "It's been in my family for generations! Why, my great-great-grandmother --"

"No, I mean, _me_. How can I know if I've really got the talent?" Summer pressed on.

"Ah. I see. That is a different matter entirely, my dear." The professor put down her teacup and peered at Summer closely. She squinted, reached out and tilted Summer's chin to the left, then the right, rubbed the crown of her head, and frowned. Summer, meanwhile, was seriously rethinking her decision to come speak with this floofy, fake woman.

At long last, she spoke. "You're the new girl. Related to that skeptic, aren't you?"

"Hermione, you mean? Er… yeah, we're cousins."

"Hmmm." She pursed her lips, looking unnaturally like McGonagall. "Let me see your hands." Summer obliged. "Ah…" murmured the professor, tracing a line diagonally across her palm, from thumb to smallest finger. "Hmm, yes, well, while most women do have feminine intuition, you do appear to be particularly… predestined, shall we say. Tell me, what can a person born under a new moon in November expect in their seventeenth year of life?"

Summer blinked. A pop quiz? That was how she was supposed to know if she had the sight? She sighed and closed her eyes. This was useless. About as good as being double-crossed by friends and then discovering a new path in life, along with meeting your future gardener. _Wait, what was that?_ She repeated it tentatively to the professor, and was shocked to see a positive reaction.

"Insightful! Yes, my dear girl, you are quite right." Professor Trelawney stood up rather abruptly and skimmed the bookshelves set into the walls. She fluttered there momentarily, then seized a book and presented it to Summer with a flourish. "Everything you need to know," she said breathily, "about discovering all your potential. Oh, do go on, take it!" She pressed the book into Summer's hands. "Read it carefully. Widen your perception! Look deep into the Beyond! Take on the mantle, the wisdom, and the burden of being a Seer!"

"Right," Summer said, stowing the book in her bag and backing away. "Yes, I definitely will… look. Deeply. And I'll let you know how it goes with that mantle. I'll just be going, then." She escaped out of the classroom and sprinted through the halls. _The only thing I'll be taking on is a detention if I'm late,_ she thought cynically.

It was only later on in the day, in her final class, that Summer had a chance to look properly at the book Trelawney had given. Professor Binns was droning on at the front of the room, and all the students around her were glassy-eyed. She slipped the book out of her bag and flipped it open under her desk.

_T.R.U.T.H. The Rudiments of Ubiquitous Talent: Handbook_. And inscribed in delicate, loopy script underneath: _Aching for understanding? Alarmed by confusion? All set for insight? Let Aloysius Alabaster lead you!_ Summer pressed her hand against her mouth to fight down the chuckles. Was this book for real? She flipped to the appropriate page and began to read.

Between _Unlocking your past lives_ and _Divining in your sink_, there was a brief chapter called _Embracing Uncertainty: Knowing for sure_. In it, Summer found the usual descriptions: physical characteristics, being born under the right stars, seeing certain death in the clouds, etc. But there was also something new, something that she could much more easily wrap her head around. A potion, with the rather dumb name of Intuition Infusion, which claimed to give prophetic dreams. Or at least, if it was taken by a true Seer, it would produce a dream of an event that would be reproduced exactly in the next day. If the drinker was not "in possession of the ubiquitous talent," Aloysius said that nothing in the dream would occur in real life.

_Hmm, now there's an idea…_

Opportunity knocked on Summer's door a few days later. Her supposed day of freedom had finally arrived: it was the third Saturday in January, and for about 45 minutes, Summer savored not having to wake up for Potions. She sidled down to the Great Hall for a late breakfast (so late, in fact, that the Hall was empty when she got there). She wandered by the kitchens to say hello to Hoppit, Dobby, and Tweezle, whom she hadn't seen since visiting during Christmas. And as usual, in a short while she found herself browsing the aisles of the library.

In short, she was bored.

Summer made it until about 11 a.m. Then, feeling embarassed and a bit idiotic (why was that happening so frequently lately?), Summer descended staircase after staircase until the air became cooler, the hallways less welcoming, and the light dimmer. She paused in front of the door to the dungeon where Potions class was held. Taking a deep breath, Summer raised her hand and knocked.

"What?" came the snappish reply. It wasn't the most hospitable greeting, but Summer knew better than to expect warmth and welcome from Snape. She pushed the door open.

Her professor was standing before one of the cupboards, with a quill and parchment floating beside him. He didn't look towards her and continued assessing the stock of ingredients.

Summer cleared her throat. "Er... hi," she began lamely. She repressed the urge to sigh in frustration at her own idiocy.

Snape turned to her in surprise. "Miss Granger," he said blankly. There was a pause, during which both of them looked at each other expectantly. "I doubt you came on a weekend merely to exchange pleasantries," he mocked.

Summer bristled. What was with Snape and his persistent rudeness? She squared her shoulders. "I had some free time and wondered if..." she trailed off. She had to say it as though she wasn't offering help, or else his Slytherin pride would refuse. "And wondered if I might be able to practice my potion-making. That is, if anything is required... by... the school. Yes." _Wow Summer_, she thought to herself, _very smooth_.

His cool gaze assessed her briefly before he turned back to his work. "Madam Pomfrey assures me that all her stocks were completed during last semester's work."

But Summer didn't leave. There was a piece of parchment burning a hole through her pocket, the potion she was dying to try. Her brain scrambled to think of some excuse to stay.

"However, your measuring has not been following the precise requirements lately," Snape said, finally abandoning his work. "Further practice will refine your understanding of the necessary quantities."

Summer beamed. "Thanks, Professor." She went to her usual spot, where she had spent nearly every weekend before Christmas.

His only acknowledgement was a nod. "The Wolfsbane Potion requires particular subtlety --"

"Actually, Professor, I have one that I was considering…"

"Very well, proceed," he said, and returned to his office, without even issuing a warning. No glares, no threats, no questioning of her competency. Not even a 'please don't blow up my class.'

Still wearing a residual smile, Summer lit a fire under the cauldron, spread out the parchment and began gathering ingredients for the Intuition Infusion.

Meanwhile, in a similarly dark and stony dungeon, a figure stood immobile before a cold and feeble fire. The flames almost seemed to shrink back from the malice rolling in waves off of the robed person. Much like the fire, Wormtail approached his Lord as though he would rather jump into a vat of lava.

"You have news?" came the hissing voice.

"Yes, my lord. Dolohov has found an appropriate subject."

"Let us hope that this one is more 'appropriate' than the last three miserable failures," replied Lord Voldemort. He turned slightly to face his servant, and the meager flames outlined a serpentine face. "Prepare the chamber."

Wormtail nodded and scurried back into the shadows. The Dark Lord returned his gaze to the small fire, envisioning the next step towards his victory. A grim smile contorted his features. Potter would never know what hit him.

* * *

Summer cursed, and made the potion disappear with a wave of her wand. For the third time, something had gone wrong. She ran her hand roughly through her hair, barely suppressing a growl. It was hard to keep her temper under control… she was following everything, _everything_, in the instructions perfectly. And now the day was nearly done, with no potion to show for all the work she had put in. Summer couldn't help it, and let out a frustrated groan.

"Is something the matter, Miss Granger?" Snape asked, coming into the classroom from his office.

"No," Summer instantly replied, too proud to admit having difficulty. Snape raised an eyebrow, and it was enough for Summer to crack. "Yes," she sighed. "Every time I brew this potion, it goes really well, until the second last step: then it just turns to useless gunk."

"What are you brewing?" the professor asked, coming to stand by the cauldron.

Wordlessly, Summer handed him the parchment with the ingredients and instructions. She had written the potion out separately, and left out its name, expecting something like this to come up. Admitted to making a Divination potion to a Potionsmaster would be like telling a scientist you had deduced the chemical formula for the soul… it just wouldn't make sense, and it would be horribly embarrassing.

Although Snape didn't say a word about it, Summer could tell that he was curious. Half of the ingredients were used in hallucinogenic drugs, and the other half were used in sleeping potions. Even if he had never brewed the potion before, he would have figured it out quite easily. They brewed the potion slowly and steadily, working as an efficient unit, with him making small adjustments to the quantities. Snape was right, she had recently been careless with measuring things. She nearly made the same mistake on the second last step, but Snape stopped her.

"Feverfew, Miss Granger."

"Right," she replied, and was about to toss in the required 30 petals.

"Stop," he said and seized her hand above the cauldron. "Properties of feverfew?"

Summer was startled. Her mind stuttered for a moment. "Oh… right. Feverfew," she recited, "is useful for medicinal potions, because of its regenerative and calming properties. Usually used in potions treating wounds, but is also less commonly found in pacifying draughts."

"Correct. Keep that in mind, and then add it." He let go of her hand and nodded for her to proceed.

Summer frowned. _What? I'm supposed to calmly add the petals from the calming flower?_ She grudgingly had to admit that it made sense. In some way, potion-making really was intuitive. She took a deep breath and sprinkled the petals into the cauldron, instead of just throwing them in. In an instant, she knew it had been what was wrong all along. Holding her breath, she carried out the final instruction (fourteen counter-clockwise stirs), and stared at the perfect potion in silent reverence.

"Ah, _finally_," she breathed, and a grin stole across her face.

"Well done, Summer," Snape said. "But you must remember that brewing potions requires more than skill. It requires… intuition." The pause was paired with a significant look and a moment of heavy silence. Then he flicked his wand, summoned a bottle, and gave it to his student before sweeping soundlessly back into his office.

Intimidating though he may be, the Potions professor was much less harsh with her than with others, so Summer just shrugged. Secretly, she thought that he must be proud of her, and the idea kept her grinning all through dinner.

"I give up. What's so funny?" Ron asked, pausing in between bites.

"Funny? Nothing," came the reply. Summer tried to tone down her smile to no avail.

"You've been smiling like mad all day," Hermione pointed out. "What happened?" And then, with a knowing sparkle in her eye, she added in conspiratorial whispers, "or should I say, who?"

Summer laughed it off. "Honestly, can't I just enjoy a nice weekend?"

"Definitely," said Harry. "While you can. Right, Hermione?" He rolled his eyes, knowing that any day now, Hermione would be giving them revision schedules for their June exams.

"Can I have a word, Harry?" Ginny Weasley had approached their part of the table and stood looking down at Harry, almost daring him to say no.

"Er… yeah, sure," he said after a moment's hesitation. "I was just finishing dinner anyway." He got up, exchanging a brief glance with Hermione, and then followed the redhead out.

Hermione sighed, a sound not lost on her cousin. Summer propped her chin on her hand and looked at the bushy-haired girl expectantly.

"What?" Hermione asked. "Stop it."

Summer maintained her inquisitive look.

"It's nothing."

Summer shrugged. "If you say so." Hermione opened her mouth to reply, but Summer cut her off, "I've got to go. Studying, library, you know." She smiled none too innocently and left, leaving Hermione flustered.

That night before bed, Summer glanced warily at the Intuition Infusion before knocking back the entire contents of the small bottle, as per Aloysius Alabaster's instructions. Within seconds, her head had hit the pillow and she began to dream. A number of images flitted through her head. The subconscious has a way of bringing up the day's events and putting unlikely spins on them. Much of what Summer dreamt was about potions, and about books and the library.

When she woke up in the morning, she didn't feel particularly intuitive. And really, she was kind of disappointed. She thought about her dreams during her morning routine and at breakfast, and the dreams were very ... ordinary. Everything that had happened was more or less something that would happen any other day at Hogwarts. She slouched over her porridge, thinking that the potion was every bit as flaky as the author of _T.R.U.T.H_.

Still, she tried to be more observant of the day, and kept taking in useless details during class. Hermione had to poke her back to attention several times. Luna had come up to talk to her at lunch. Summer had scrutinized the conversation but found nothing that seemed unnaturally familiar. Disenchanted, she went back to the library after dinner to do some more research on this problem of hers.

Summer walked through the musty aisles, the heavy scent of old paper calming her nerves. This was getting to be a bit much, she thought. All she really wanted was a sign. Just one, simple, easy to read sign that would answer all her questions, or at least point her in the right direction. But, she mused bitterly, that was too much to ask. She stopped in the middle of a row of shelves and leaned her back against the ancient wood, gazing sightlessly ahead.

And then she blinked. The image didn't disappear. She tried blinking again. It was still there.

Shoved haphazardly sideways into a shelf, there sat a book. Its brown leather spine looked innocent enough, but the words imprinted jumped out at her. _Thorough Theory of Human Transfiguration_. The book she had been reading on the last day of exams. The book that Malfoy had been reading in the moving room, before the dagger had attacked. And now, here it was.

Numbly, Summer dragged the tome out of its spot and took it over to a table. She sat down and opened it at random. It fell open at the beginning of a new chapter: Animagi. _Are you kidding me?_ Summer's eyes widened. She didn't remember dreaming this, precisely, but she did remember dreaming the library, and this book seemed like a sign of its own. So she began to read.

She was just getting to the good part, having finally finished with all the warnings in the introduction, when Summer felt the hair rise on the back of her neck and was seized with a sudden urge to look up. Standing with arms crossed, Madam Pince was looking down at the student and the book on the table. You would think that a librarian would want people to read books, but the woman glared at Summer as though she had stolen her most precious possession.

Summer felt a flash of awareness. In her mind's eye, she saw Pince stalk forward and slam the book closed.

In reality, Madam Pince strode forward and closed the book with a bang.

Summer thought that now would be a good time for the librarian to deliver a lecture. Something like 'this book is Restricted.'

"This book is from the Restricted section," Madam Pince said in quiet, clipped tones.

Summer already knew what she would say in response. "I have permission," she said, knowing that the key that Snape had given her long ago would somehow be in her pocket. She took it out now and showed it to the librarian. Bizarrely, she felt detached from the situation: as though she was merely observing a memory. Like déjà-vu.

Madam Pince stared at the key for a moment, seeming to remember. The young girl knew what the next objection would be before it came, and nearly mouthed the words that the librarian spoke.

"It's been removed from circulation by the Headmaster."

"I wasn't aware of that," Summer lied. She knew perfectly well: she had dreamt it the night before. Besides, it was bound to happen after that incident with the fox. She felt goose bumps form on her arms: now some one would come to her aid. McGonagall.

"I hope the students aren't giving you trouble, Madam Pince," said a strict voice. The Deputy Headmistress had come into the library and was now standing by the table. Summer felt a bit bewildered. _Okay, maybe very bewildered_, she corrected.

Summer slid the book across to the librarian. "A simple misunderstanding, Professor," she said politely. She stood and bid the two older women good night. As she left the library, she did not need to turn around to know that they stared after her with unreadable expressions. She already knew. The Intuition Infusion had worked.


	18. Insight

_A/N: Insight - (n.) grasping the true nature of things intuitively._

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Eighteen: Insight**

_Greasy, misshapen candles flickered and sent dingy smoke into the air. The coils drifting upwards from the flames mingled with a denser fog that was already present. The combination was heavy and made the already stale air almost unbearable. The walls of the room were slick with moisture. It was damp, this far down in the dungeons. Whatever stronghold this was, it was not a comforting place of refuge. _

_Her vision swam. The thick air smelled funny, like musk and something heady, maybe frankincense. The stone walls blurred, and through them she could see another layer of stone. Figures were running about, but their motion combined with the fumes caused a wave of dizziness. The hand moved automatically, scratching rhythmically on parchment. It felt like the only living part of the body. Everything else was numb, dulled from sensation by the smoke. Though sitting, she felt so dizzy, so off balance. Her eyes rolled backwards and she fell…_

"Oof!"

Hermione jumped up in her bed, startled. She glanced around quickly, then frowned when she saw the source of the noise.

"Summer? What are you doing on the floor?"

She was tangled in her sheets, which stuck to her sweaty skin. She blinked dazedly and rubbed the sleep from her eyes. "Er… I don't exactly know," she sheepishly admitted. Something was nagging her, tickling the back of her mind. But the moment she turned her attention to it, it receded further. "Bad dreams, I guess."

The incident was soon forgotten in the morning rush to get ready for class. Summer had kept her recently confirmed abilities a secret. She wanted to tell Hermione desperately. A heart-to-heart would probably do both girls a lot of good, but she couldn't imagine that Hermione, who had stormed out of Divination, would approve. Nobody in their right mind would approve, because nobody would believe her, except for Trelawney but that didn't mean much.

Going to talk about it with Harry or Ron was also out of the question. Both boys were obsessed with Quidditch and loved to use it as their excuse to get out of anything. Besides that, it offered them a great distraction from something else, something far more sinister.

Valentine's Day.

As soon as the notice had gone up on the 2nd of February, it seemed as though all the girls at Hogwarts became feverish and hysterical. The next Hogsmeade trip would be on a Saturday, the 14th to be precise. Which meant that every single boy that was the least bit desirable suddenly had to deal with an onslaught of female attention. Desirability was based on: being The Boy Who Lived, being on a quidditch team, being moderately to highly attractive, showing disregard for the school uniform, or just generally being a rebel. Poor Harry and Ron were getting assaulted.

Summer left them to their suffering, for the most part. Ron, once, had seized her in the hallway and quickly thrown his arm around her shoulders.

"Just play along," he begged, panic written on his face. Moments later, Lavender Brown had turned into the same corridor, clearly intent on pursuing Ron. Summer grinned crookedly. This was the same game of cat-and-mouse that half of Hogwarts was currently playing. Dumbledore might as well have instructed the house elves to lace the pumpkin juice with Amorentia. The week immediately before Valentine's was absolutely ridiculous, and according to Hermione, it rivaled the excitement before the Yule Ball. It made normal interaction with the opposite sex damn near impossible.

"Hey Harry." Summer threw herself into the chair across from his in the common room.

He jumped. "Er… yeah?" He looked nervous.

"You know, you helped me a lot last semester, and I was just wondering if you …" Summer paused. He was looking distinctly more nervous as she went on. She frowned, but blurted out her question. "I'm positively awful at the poltergeist-binding spell we're supposed to know for the practical quiz in DADA next week. Could you help me?"

"Help?" He sagged in relief. "Oh, thank Merlin. Yeah, sure, whenever you want. Just not on Tuesday, I've got a meeting with the quidditch team."

"How 'bout after dinner, on Wednesday? The usual room," suggested Summer.

He started to answer but someone behind her caught his attention. Summer noted with some interest that he got a shade paler.

"Harry! I've been looking all over for you," Ginny exclaimed, approaching them. "Listen, I've got this great idea for the next team practice…" As she was speaking, she had hauled him up and linked arms with him, leading him towards the couch by the fire. Over her shoulder, she shot a glare at Summer.

"Hmm," she murmured. People were definitely acting strangely around this time of year. Somewhere to her right, she heard a heavy book slam. Hermione was huffing and noisily rustling parchment as she gathered her things to head upstairs. Summer looked from the couch to the stairs, suspicion nagging her. After a moment, she followed her cousin and found her sitting on her bed, mindlessly flipping the pages of some book.

"So… that Ginny's a real charmer, huh?" Summer began, sitting down beside Hermione.

"What?" Hermione said. "Sorry, I wasn't listening."

"I figured. What's up?"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, everyone has been acting crazy lately, and so have you. So what's the matter?" Summer pressed.

"Nothing's the matter. What a silly question. It's just the stress of exams," she replied, waving away concern.

"Hermione." Summer fixed her with a steely stare. "It's February."

The two girls locked eyes and tried to stare each other down. Hermione was the first to cave in.

"Oh, alright." She cast a quick silencing charm around them and started speaking, reluctantly. "I don't know how much you know about Ginny, but --"

"Not a thing. I've never actually spoken with her," Summer interrupted.

"Well, when she first met Harry, she was obsessed with him."

"Obviously! He's Harry Potter! _The_ Harry Potter."

"Right. So it's natural, kind of… But she really liked him, and she still does, even though she's started going with other boys. And now that Valentine's is coming up, Ginny has gotten her hopes up again because Harry isn't with Cho or anyone else." Hermione tugged at a loose thread on her sleeve and sighed. "Ginny's wonderful, but…"

Although Summer would dearly have loved to finish that sentence with Hermione confessing her own feelings for Harry, she knew it wouldn't happen. Her cousin would never openly admit to liking a boy (who had time for boys when there were essays to be written?), and besides that, Summer thought that they'd be an unlikely couple.

Summer huffed and flopped backwards on the bed. "But Harry isn't interested, right? Or he's too dumb to notice?"

Hermione joined her lying down. "No, he just doesn't think of Ginny like that. I know he tried, for a while, but it was a long time ago, and a lot has happened."

"Hmm…. So why are you worried about this?"

"Because it's Harry, Summer! And Ginny! I've known them both for so long and it's just making life difficult."

Summer snorted. "As if life was easy to begin with."

Uncharacteristically, Hermione giggled. "You make a convincing argument. But you know what I mean, don't you?"

"Yeah. How come Harry doesn't just say no?"

"Because… it's Harry," Hermione explained helplessly.

"That's your explanation for everything," Summer laughed. "I think it's just boys in general. Or… maybe he does still like her, and just doesn't want to hurt her."

The two girls stared thoughtfully at the crimson canopy.

"Well," began Hermione slowly, "he _is_ Harry Potter."

Summer burst out laughing and hit Hermione with a pillow. They spent the rest of the evening gossiping over who was going with whom for the Hogsmeade trip. Summer fell asleep quickly and peacefully that night, which graciously allowed her at least half a night of decent sleep. Dreams of stone walls and thick, smoky air had kept her tossing and turning fitfully all night.

By the time Wednesday evening had come along, Summer was yawning hugely over her dinner and was dragging her feet on her way to the tutoring classroom. Harry didn't comment on her half-awake state, but couldn't help the look of shock that crossed his face when she ruined the spell again. This time, it worked, only the 'poltergeist,' a white sheet, had bound itself tightly around her arm instead of the cage they were practicing with.

"Oh, bugger it all!" she huffed, and tried to peel it off with her left hand.

He chuckled and came over to help. "You're still doing it wrong. It's as bad as your Accio."

"Ha ha, how kind of you, Professor Potter," she drawled sarcastically. Summer tried to pry it off by sticking her fingernail under one corner, but it wouldn't budge. Harry tried tugging at it too, with no effect.

"You say the incantation wrong, too. It's _Espiritu Escla-viti_, not escleviti. And it would help if you didn't yawn in the middle," he said, and gave another pull at the sheet.

"You noticed?" Summer covered her mouth as she yawned again, and surrendered her right arm to Harry.

"Hard not to," he replied, and stepped back to cast a spell at her arm.

"Ow! Hey!" Summer whined, and rubbed her arm/poltergeist. The white sheet started to smoke, but was still firmly stuck. "That hurt."

"Are you okay?"

"Yeah, but don't do that one again," she replied, and held out her arm for further testing.

Harry tried another spell, which caused a blue glow and not much else. "I meant about the sleeping. Maybes hexes will help."

"With sleeping?" Summer asked, but then he tried a hex on the fabric wrapped around her arm and she understood. "Oh. In the worst case scenario, we just curse my arm off. That's what Skele-Gro is for."

"You don't want to go through that." Harry grimaced. "How about the Hurling Hex?"

"You think so?"

"Well, it worked well enough on a broom," Harry said.

Summer rolled her eyes. She did not want to know what happened. "Give it a go," she intoned with disinterest.

Harry performed the hex, and caused a tremendous bang that made several framed diagrams to fall off the walls and rain glass down on them. A cloud of dust rose up from the shaken room and left them coughing in the musty air.

"Alright, Summer?" Harry asked sheepishly.

"No thanks to you, Professor," she bit back. "Oh." She suddenly noticed that the hand she was waving to clear the air wasn't covered in a sheet-turned-poltergeist. "It worked. I just hope Filch didn't hear the noise."

"_PEEVES!_" The angry voice of the caretaker could be heard echoing in the hallway outside, not very far away.

They held their breath nervously and briefly exchanged a glance. Both guilty students thought the same thing: what are the odds that Filch will go into the wrong room?

At that moment, the heavy wooden light hanging from the ceiling chose to creak ominously. In unison, they slowly turned their eyes up to the ceiling and noticed the splintered beam. The light fixture was swaying slowly and the wood screeched as it was put under pressure. And then the weight became too much, then remaining wood snapped in half, and the great hunk of wood and iron came crashing down.

Luckily for Harry and Summer, they were well clear of the demolition site. Unluckily, this even greater noise would definitely lead Filch in the right direction. Sure enough he could already be heard just outside the door, cursing Peeves to the depths of hell.

"Run!" gasped Harry, grabbed Summer by the arm, and dashed out the far door. They sprinted up one corridor, took a sharp left, ran down another hall, took twists and turns that Summer didn't know even existed. With the adrenaline pumping, all she could hear was the rush of air past her ears and the thudding of her heart. She could only hope that Filch hadn't managed to catch up. Finally Harry skidded to a halt in front of a door, and the two of them jumped into a closet, closing the door as quietly as possible.

The space was cramped and crammed full of useless objects: broom handles, buckets with holes, broken mousetraps, and inexplicable garden hoses. There wasn't much room to move, or to hide, so if anyone opened the door, they would definitely get caught. The run down the hall had left them both out of breath. They squeezed together and held the door shut.

Summer had a queer feeling in the pit of her stomach. She could hear their heavy breathing and feel Harry's breath stirring her hair. Her heart pounded loudly, half from adrenaline, and half from something else. She tilted her head back to ask Harry how long before it was safe to leave, but he put a finger to her lips.

They tried to be as still as possible. They heard uneven steps coming down the hall, as well as the telltale clicking of cat's claws on stone.

"Where did they go, my lovely? We saw them come here, didn't we? I'll catch those filthy brats. Blowing up a classroom! Dumbledore has to let me use the shackles now!" They could almost hear Filch rubbing his hands together in anticipation. The voice moved further down the hall, away from them. Harry relaxed and let out a breath.

"What's that, dear?" Filch was speaking to his cat again. A second later, they heard cat's claws scratch the wood of the door to the closet. Immediately, the students tensed, and Summer gripped Harry's arm in fear. Filch's footsteps coming towards them sounded like doom, until, mercifully, the caretakers cat was heard to wander away from them. Filch followed his feline away from their hiding place, still grumbling about irresponsible students.

They remained tense for a few more moments until complete silence had settled. Harry looked down at her, and after sharing a frightened stare for a second, they both burst out laughing. They tumbled out into the hallway, still chuckling, and Summer forgot all about the strange feeling she had.

"Oh! That was priceless! I wish I could have seen his face!" Summer gasped for breath.

Harry shook his head. "Just be glad he didn't catch us," he warned, but a huge grin was plastered on his face. "We should fix it before he really does call Dumbledore. Come on, I know a faster way," he said and they continued on.

In no time at all, the damage was fixed and they escaped from the scene of the crime. They were still grinning at their narrow evasion of the dastardly caretaker when they entered the Common Room. Harry's smile soon fell from his face. Hermione and Ron were waiting for him at the portrait hole, arms crossed and feet tapping impatiently.

"We need to talk," Hermione burst out as soon as she saw him. She darted a quick glance at Summer and understanding passed between them.

"Oh! I still need to pick up a book for McGonagall's essay before the library closes. I almost forgot all about it. See you later," she said, and beat a hasty retreat back out into the hall. Though she usually felt excluded when this happened, she didn't mind much. Either Hermione was going to confront Harry about being indecisive, which was fine with Summer. Or, the Golden Trio was going to discuss something to do with the war, which Summer wanted no part of. Really, she was better off wandering the halls for a while to clear her head. She only remembered that there was a curfew when she saw someone walking down the hall towards her.

"You there! Don't Gryffindors wear watches? What are you doing out past curfew?" The student was wearing Slytherin robes, and the low torchlight was glinting off the Prefect badge and white-blonde hair.

Summer relaxed. "Time is an illusion, Malfoy, created by the human mind, and we higher beings prefer not to encase ourselves in such trivial things," she said loftily.

"I should have known it was you," he snarled in reply.

"Tsk tsk, Malfoy. Such manners. And anyway, I was just on my way to the library." She crossed her arms and stared defiantly at him.

"It's closed. Or do you higher beings also not respect rules?"

She fought off the urge to laugh. This bantering was way too much fun. "When it amuses us. But you should know a thing or two about respecting rules. You are Slytherin, after all."

He seemed to be losing his cool. "Granger, I am not in the mood to be insulted --"

"No, you never are," she cut in.

"Ten points --!"

This time she did laugh. "You're joking. For what? Annoying you? That should earn points for Gryffindor."

He clenched his fists, and the crinkling noise of paper made Summer notice a letter crushed in his hand.

"I'm warning you," he growled, but didn't draw his wand, which showed some serious restraint.

"Alright," Summer said, the energy suddenly seeping out of her. Why did it seem that everyone around the castle was stressing out from different intrigues? It was maddening. This was why she had left the Gryffindor Tower to begin with. She turned tail and headed back the way she had come, pausing briefly to say good night to Malfoy. Even snakes deserved kindness. Well, maybe not, but people who were sent poisoned knives by their parents definitely deserved an inkling of civility.

A sudden thought crossed her mind: why had he gotten that particularly nasty present? Malfoy had said that he knew why, but had never elaborated. Summer almost turned back to ask about it. Almost. Yet, Malfoy was the prince of Slytherin, and Summer was essentially a muggle in witch's clothing, so she didn't ask.

While she was thinking these deep thoughts, she continued yawning incessantly. _All the more reason to obey curfew_, she thought. Maybe she would finally get a decent night of sleep.

To Summer's great distress, it was another restless night. Her posture over her porridge was evidence of it. Half-heartedly, she moved the spoon repeatedly to and from her mouth, and kept her head up by propping her chin on her hand.

"Good morning!" Hermione said brightly, sitting across from her.

"Not really. I've been here probably since the house elves were up," Summer grunted in reply. She glanced at her cousin's upbeat expression and bright smile. "Good news, then? About whatever it was last night?"

"Oh," Hermione stalled. "Well… no, actually. Worse, we think. Wait, are you talking about… ? Because that other thing is turning out really well."

Summer was not awake enough to handle this vague conversation. She was saved from having to ask whether Hermione was referring to Voldemort or Ginny, by the arrival of a short, angry child at her side. It was a surly Slytherin, probably a first year student judging by his height. He looked like he would rather be anywhere else in the world than standing by the Gryffindor table. The boy threw a folded parchment down beside Summer's cutlery and spun around to retreat.

"Wait, are you sure this is for me?" Summer called after him. The boy didn't stop and scurried back to the shelter of his house's table.

"From Slytherin? Who could it be?" Hermione asked, straining to see across the table.

Summer read the note quickly.

_Your potion-making must be discussed. Saturday, 9 o'clock._

_-- Severus Snape_

Short and to the point. It was so typically fitting for him that Summer nearly smiled. She hadn't noticed any major mistakes in Potions lately. Nothing had blown up, and everything was functional. She thought it might be about the last potion she had brewed on her own, and grimaced.

"What? What is it?" Hermione pressed, bouncing with curiousity.

"Nothing important. More Remedial Potions stuff," Summer replied, which was more or less true.

"I thought that you were getting better at it?" Hermione questioned. "I can recommend a few great books if you'd like."

"No, it's fine," Summer said. The last thing she wanted to do now was to read about potions. That had not solved her problems last time: so, she was psychic. That didn't make life any easier. "It just takes practice."

"Does it say when? Harry might have another DA meeting next week."

Summer met Hermione's gaze. "Really? Harry's having the meeting, or you are?" Her eyes were laughing as she prodded her cousin.

"He just needs a little push in the right direction," Hermione replied, avoiding a direct response. "Just make sure that you can come."

She rolled her eyes. "Yes, dear," she intoned sarcastically. Thankfully, Hermione didn't press further for the date of her so-called Remedial Potions. They each had their secrets, and that was fine with Summer. She wasn't particularly eager to see Hermione's reaction when she found out that Summer had just given up a Hogsmeade trip to stay in the dungeons with Severus Snape. If only her cousin could read her mind now…

Summer laughed.

"What?" Hermione asked, startled from her breakfast and _Daily Prophet_.

"They say that you're the brightest witch of our time," Summer began. Hermione blushed fiercely and was about to brush off the comment, but Summer continued. "So have you perfect Legillimency yet?"

"Legillimency… hmm… no, I've never thought about it. What makes you ask?" Hermione said, tilting her head and squinting as though it would help her see Summer's logic.

"No reason," Summer said, a slight smile still on her face.

Pretending to be annoyed, Hermione huffed and held the paper up as she read it, creating a wall between them. As Summer's eyes refocused on the back cover, the smile slipped. The more she read, the more her face contorted into a frown. She didn't even notice when Ron and Harry joined them.

"What's gotten into you?" Ron asked, referring to Summer's expression of confusion, worry and anger all mixed into one.

"Did you see this?" she asked and, taking the paper from Hermione's hands, pointed the small article out.

_**Seeking Seers!**_

_Have you always felt a connection to the stars? Are you great at guessing games? The Daily Prophet wants you! We're currently looking for fresh, new writers for our horoscope section._

_Due to the unusual shortage of Seers and Soothsayers, we need staff immediately, so apply today. When others go missing, jump at your chance to communicate to the masses!_

And then it went into the details of where to send your owl with a resume and sample horoscope.

Hermione looked up after she finished reading it aloud to the four of them. "Are you looking for a job?" Her confusion was evident, as was a hint of disapproval.

"For the _Daily Prophet_? You've got to be joking," Harry added, also with more than just a hint of disapproval. He was practically sneering.

"Read between the lines," urged Summer. She was met with two blank stares, and Hermione's raised eyebrow. "Diviners are disappearing. _'When others go missing…'_"

"You think it's…" Hermione trailed off.

"What?" Ron asked, looking between the two Grangers.

"It all started with a prophecy, right?" Summer posited.

"What are you talking about?" echoed Harry.

"I don't know… it's such a fickle, and frankly rather ridiculous, field."

"Yeah, but let's face it, Hermione… he's also fickle, and also rather fanatical. It kind of fits."

Finally exasperated, the two boys spoke in unison. "What?!"

For a moment, Summer was afraid of speaking it out loud, because of what it might mean to her, personally. Then in a hushed tone, she replied.

"Voldemort is gathering the Seers."


	19. Revelation

A/N: Half of this was written at work, and half was written very early in the morning, hence I must apologize for any inconsistency. I'll edit it later if there are any major problems. And thank you, reviewers. :)

**Almost a Dream Come True**

**Chapter Nineteen: Revelation**

The girl in disheveled Gryffindor robes stood numbly before the heavy wooden door. Her hair looked untamed, and her eyes had a wild look about them as though, perhaps, she hadn't been sleeping well. Her skin had taken on an unhealthy pallor which was only made more prominent by the flickering of torches. Even though it was nearly 9 am, the sun never reached this place, and torches were always lit along the stony corridors of the dungeons.

It most definitely did not feel like Valentine's Day. Though, Summer supposed that since she hadn't celebrated the day for at least ten years (the last memory was of Valentine's cards and chocolates given out by her third grade teacher), there was not much point in noticing the occasion at all. Thankfully, the dungeons had been spared from the confetti that had littered the tables at breakfast.

She recalled the expressions on her friends' faces when she told them she wasn't going to Hogsmeade. Surprise. And then, when they questioned her, utter shock that she would rather stay in the castle to do some more studying. It wasn't entirely a lie: she planned to study later, but decided to exclude the fact that she was first and foremost supposed to go see Professor Snape. Hermione was the only one who might be able to put two and two together, though Summer doubted it would make a difference to her. Harry and Ron, on the other hand, would either complain on her behalf or try to declare her a traitor again.

Shaking herself out of her thoughts and suppressing a yawn, she finally knocked on the door.

"Enter."

"Good morning, sir," she said flatly, coming into the room and sitting when he gestured to the now-familiar straight-backed, uncomfortable chair.

"Indeed," he sneered. Seated behind his desk, dressed entirely in black as usual, and with the torches casting sharp shadows behind him, Severus Snape presented an intimidating image. Unfortunately, the scene was completely lost on the student he was trying to intimidate, since she was preoccupied was trying to suppress another yawn.

He raised an eyebrow in disdain. "Is your lethargy so great that 9 o'clock is too early to meet?"

She ignored the harsh tone. It was, after all, Severus Snape, Head of Slytherin. "It isn't, sir, I just didn't sleep well," she answered dutifully. Glancing around his office briefly, she noted that his desk was perfectly devoid of any parchment. No essays of hers, no notes, no grades, nothing that indicated that Snape was about to discuss academics.

"Ah. Disturbing dreams, perhaps?" he asked with forced casualness while he summoned a pot of tea and two cups with a wave of his wand. It seemed altogether unusual behaviour, setting Summer on her guard.

"Er..." she began uncertainly. Could she really confide in this particular professor? He wasn't her Head of House, although perhaps if she had been Sorted... she quashed that thought mercilessly. And he was in cahoots with Voldemort, regardless of whether he was spying for the Dark Lord or for the Order of the Pheonix. But he had shown her the Dark Mark on his arm, unashamed and unconcerned with what she might think. It was so long ago, and by no means did it create instant friendship between them, but they understood one another's alienation. Besides, she reasoned, surely Voldemort's right-hand man would have some insight on the situation?

Since seeing the snippet in the Daily Prophet, she had an uneasy feeling that the strange dreams of stone cells and fumes had been insight into the life of one of those missing seers... one of those held by Voldemort. She shivered. And they were such awful dreams, too. It did not provide the least bit of rest for Summer, if she spent the night tossing fitfully and experiencing the wretched, drugged existence of the anonymous Seer.

"Has you ability to speak departed along with your ability to stay awake?" he snapped moodily.

Oddly enough, his tone didn't offend her. Instead, she resolved to tell him as much as she knew, from the beginning.

"I--" but now she was stuck. Where was the beginning, really?

"When I first came to Hogwarts..." No, she thought, cutting herself off again. That wasn't relevant.

"In Divination once..." That wasn't appropriate either, and she frowned.

Snape looked exasperated. "If you are trying to tell me that you have considerable abilities in the realm of prescience, spit it out, girl."

Her eyes widened in surprise. But of course, he must have recognized that potion she had brewed. Hesitantly, she nodded.

"And am I to presume that this is somehow affecting your sleeping?"

She nodded again.

"Unusual, but not unheard of." He handed her a cup of tea. Bewildered, she took it and inhaled the invigorating aroma. "You brewed the Intuition Infusion."

It was not a question, but she nodded anyway.

"And the results were positive," he continued, trying to coax an explanation out of her.

She felt foolish discussing such a wishy-washy topic with a Potionsmaster: someone used to exactitude and certainty. Another, slightly embarassed, nod.

"Explain," he ordered, finally forcing her to speak.

"I... well. To make a long story short," she began, deciding that Snape would look favorably on brevity, "When I arrived at Hogwarts, the story I made up in order to stay here, somehow, inexplicably, seemed exactly the same as the true story. And then when--"

"Miss Granger, do you mean to say that you _lied_ to get into the school?" His expression was unreadable.

"I suppose... you could interpret it that way. I just didn't know that it was the truth, at the time." Summer glanced up to check his reaction to this: it wasn't what she expected. He almost looked impressed. _Must be a trick of the light_, she told herself. "Anyway, I had a weird... vision," here she wrinkled her nose, feeling strange about using such words, "and it later turned out to be a fox being chased by a dagger. An odd and unlikely coincidence. That's when I started doing research." She took another sip and set her cup down.

"Though I do not doubt that you share your cousin's excessive curiosity, there is a very good chance that you simply did not have all the facts relating to your… apparent condition."

She gaped at him. Facts? _Facts?_ This was something bordering on telepathy, not science. There were no facts. She promptly told him so.

"An accurate observation," he agreed. "However, my point is that you cannot be certain that--"

"Yes, I _can_," she replied venomously. Her exhaustion was pushed to the back of her mind, allowing frustration to take over. "I made up a family history, and it proved to be true," she began, counting off on her fingers. "I saw an image in the smoke of some animal being pursued. Surprise, surprise, Malfoy turns out to be an animagus with an evil knife after him. I scoured all the books in Hogwarts on this, and succeeded at every bloody test. Sometimes I know what's on a person's mind before they even say anything, it's like an overdose of deja-vu. I made a potion: it worked." Now, having run out of fingers to count on, she threw her hands up in frustration. "And because of that damned thing, I haven't slept properly in weeks!"

He observed her calmly as she slouched in the hard chair. The silence settled thickly around them after her outburst, weighing heavily on her shoulders. The way the torchlight was cast on the stones of this dungeon reminded her of a different dungeon, one that was hopefully far away.

"I wonder, Professor Snape," she began again, quietly this time, "if you've noticed that… that people with certain _fortelling_ abilities have been missing lately?" She cleared her throat nervously. "Er… you know, through your… d-darker acquaintances?"

His eyes narrowed and a muscle in his jaw twitched. This was dangerous territory, she knew. Nonetheless, he inclined his head just the slightest as an indication for her to continue.

"Since I took the Intuition Infusion, I've been… dreaming," she spared him a look, acutely aware of how idiotic she sounded. Snape's expression affirmed that he, also, thought she sounded idiotic. "I mean, after that first test-dream. The insightful dreams, they've kept coming. And it's always the same thing--"

"Are you confident that you should be disclosing this information to me?" he asked, cutting her off. "Perhaps this is better suited to your Head of House? Or perhaps Professor Trelawney." The expression on his face spoke volumes about his opinion of that particular professor.

She opened her mouth, the words _'Well, technically, you are my Head of House'_ already on her tongue, before she clamped down and bit her tongue, quite literally. The iron taste of blood filled her mouth and Summer sipped at the tea again, hoping it would remove the taste. It didn't, but at least she had a moment to think of a reply.

"No." It was succinct, and she continued. "It seems to me that the critical part of the dream takes place in the dungeons… no, not these," she amended. "Other dungeons, I don't know where, but the stones look wet, so I think it's close to water. There's always heavy smoke in the room, fumes from incense or something. It makes his head spin and it's hard to stay coherent, nearly like being drugged. Actually… it probably is a drug of some sort, with hallucinogenic properties. The only sound comes from the quill." She shrugged, indicating that was all that seemed critical, despite being apparently random.

"_His_ head?" Snape echoed.

"This sounds ridiculous, I know, but the seer feels male. " She couldn't help the redness that began tingeing her ears. Once again, she had to wonder why she had foolishly chosen to trust Severus Snape with this kind of information, out of all the people at Hogwarts or outside of it.

"You have told no one else of this dream?" He regarded her with his customary stiff, stony expression.

"No. I rather thought that you could... well, be a sounding-board. I would appreciate your perspective." The last bit she said with a stiff formality that mimicked his own.

"What is he writing?"

"I've never seen it directly, but…" she trailed off, giving him a darkly significant look. If she, a young witch who had recently discovered magic, and even more recently discovered her psychic abilities, was dreaming about some male that appeared to be likewise talented and in the captivity of a dark wizard, there was really only one thing he could be writing. A prophecy.

"I see."

A cool silence fell.

"Very well," the professor replied at last. "It had already come to my attention that this might be brought up at some point. My vigilance will continue. Rest assured that it will be dealt with. Should anything occur, I will inform the Headmaster. You are dismissed."

She rose unsteadily from her chair, a bit thrown off by the abrupt dismissal. Summer couldn't even think of a response this time, and just hesitantly made her way out. The sound of his voice stopped her at the door.

"One more thing, Miss Granger. If there are any changes, or if any more information becomes revealed by these--" he paused with a sneer, apparently looking for an appropriate word, "-- prophetic visions of yours, contact me _immediately_."

Summer felt relief as she left the dungeons and emerged from subterranean Hogwarts. She made her way, as usual, to the courtyard which was abandoned and covered with snow so white that it was blinding. With some amusement, she thought of how funny it was that she felt relieved by speaking with Severus Snape, who had all the grace and social skills of a carrot. Which is to say, none at all. Still, it did make her feel better. An adult, someone who had some degree of control over the situation, had been told. Now, surely, she would start getting answers, and maybe (dared she be so optimistic?) some sleep.

Summer, true to her nature as a Granger, took to her books soon afterwards. The familiar smell of musty paper and the crackling of the fire in the empty Common Room were comforting to her. There was probably only one other person who could appreciate the calming effect of a good book, and that was Hermione. Summer knew, in the back of her mind, that she would have to tell her cousin about her newfound 'ubiquitous talent', as that author had put it.

Night fell early this far north, this deep in winter, and this close to the mountains. The sky had turned a clear, frosty indigo by the time a few students had returned to the castle. Before long, the chatter of first and second years was driving Summer mad. She tried to maintain her focus on Ancient Runes but she couldn't make heads or tails of the symbols as long as that squeaky-voiced child sitting at the next table insisted on loudly retelling the snowball-war that had occurred on the school grounds mere hours ago.

Summer sought peace and quiet in, what she hoped would be, an isolated and empty spot. She left Gryffindor Tower with a single text book and a scarf, and headed for the Astronomy Tower. So far as no one disturbed her, she might be able to review last week's material since the sky was perfect for it. She huffed and puffed her way up the innumerable stairs and finally reached the top. She applauded her own foresight in bringing a scarf; she hadn't yet opened the door to the outside and already there was a draft.

But before her fingers could clasp the metal doorknob, it turned of its own accord.

For one bewildered, illogical moment, Summer wondered if Fate had decided to be unusually cruel and dumped on her the power of telekinesis, in addition to clairvoyance. That would be unsupportable.

The door opened fully. As it so happened, it was actually opened physically by a person (to Summer's relief), who was Malfoy (to Summer's dismay).

They blinked at each other for a moment, clearly not expecting this sudden encounter. Summer opened her mouth a few times, as though maybe she might venture speaking at some point. Malfoy took a few moments to select an appropriate reaction and settled on a scowl.

"I'm going to do some studying," Summer blurted, and held up her Astronomy textbook as evidence.

Malfoy pushed past her and started down the stairs. "As if I care what you do, you stupid witch," he spat.

She was taken aback by the harshness. Curiousity burned in her mind. Before, she had thought that something else had made him angry, that day when they had met in the corridor. Now Summer couldn't help but feel that she had apparently done something to anger him, even though the last time she had spent any lengthy time with him was the day he took Felix Felicis. He couldn't still be mad about that, surely. All this went through her mind in a fraction of a second.

"Malfoy," she called after him.

Already a few stairs down from her, he stopped and looked back. "What?" he said venomously.

Seeing his glare, Summer backed down and reminded herself of propriety. "Er… I… nevermind," she mumbled and closed the door before she had a chance to say any more. She had to remind herself that she had no right to pry into his business. If he wanted to be angry at her, then she should just let it be.

The top of the Tower was empty and she could see why. Up here there was a biting wind that would keep even the most adventurous students away. A thought crept to her mind and she wondered what Malfoy had been doing here. Practicing transfiguration again? She sighed, and tried to return to her studying. The stars were clear-cut in the crisp air and the moon was only a sliver in the sky. She could see all the constellations that she needed to study, but couldn't bring herself to be the least bit interested in tracking them across the night sky. She sat on the frigid stone and leaned her back against the parapet. There were a few leaves pushed into the cracks and edges, left from the previous autumn.

"_Accio_ leaf."

It did not move.

"_Accio_ book."

Her textbook, which was by her feet, did not move. She sighed.

"_Expecto patronum_." A faint silvery grey smoke issued from her wand and was torn apart by the wind in seconds.

"Summer Granger, you are a miserable witch," she told herself. "You are also talking to yourself. That can't be a good sign." She paused reflectively. "Well, actually, I can't be that bad at being a witch if I'm psychic. And I guess that if I'm psychic, I'm allowed to be a little psychotic." She chuckled feebly at the pun. "Great, and now I'm making bad jokes." Sighing again, she gazed upwards. The stars twinkled innocently, completely unaware of the troubles of being Summer Granger. Summer thought they probably were unaware of the tensions running high in Hogwarts. In fact, the stars were likely to also be ignorant of Voldemort and the brewing war. Suddenly, being a star did not seem like such a bad lot in life.

This would not do. Nothing was being solved or explained or reaching any conclusion while she was sitting here, pretending to be philosophical. Summer grabbed her textbook, feeling guilty about not studying after all, and went back to the Common Room. Hopefully everyone had returned from the village by now. Judging by how dark the sky had gotten and by the grumbling of her stomach, it was dinner time. Summer changed her course and set off for the Great Hall instead.

Thankfully, Hermione was sitting by Ron, with an empty seat to her left, and Harry and Ginny across the table.

"Where were you?" Ron immediately asked in between mouthfuls.

"Studying," she replied, even though that wouldn't explain why her cheeks were still pink from the cold wind. But she put the textbook on the table and no one could really argue.

"Studying?" echoed Harry.

"As usual," she said with a grin. "How was Hogsmeade?"

Ron and Harry launched into an animated account of a fight at the Three Broomsticks. Ginny, for her part, ignored Summer and only occasionally interrupted her brother when he embellished the truth too much. Summer took advantage of the situation to nudge Hermione with her elbow.

"Can we talk later?" she whispered.

Hermione nodded minutely.

Summer felt a bit better. Today was a good day for telling people things. Professor Snape now knew about Summer's weird dreams, and soon Hermione would know. Summer sat impatiently through dinner, the inane chatter on the way back to the Common Room, two badly played games of Wizard's Chess, and gossip about who had been spotted at Madam Puddifoot's. This gave her enough time to imagine several of Hermione's possible reactions and develop anxieties about them. What if she laughed? What if she didn't believe her? What if she told Ron and Harry? And then what if Harry got suspicious again? Or what if she told McGonagall and Dumbledore? Would Dumbledore expel her? Or what if Dumbledore already knew? What if Hermione just decided that Summer was crazy and sent her to St. Mungo's?

"I'm going to bed," Hermione announced. "Good night," she said to the group and met Summer's gaze.

"Me too," said Summer, and thankfully, finally, escaped to the dormitory upstairs where she could finally confide in her cousin. She joined Hermione on her bed.

"_Muffliato_. Summer, what's going on?" Hermione demanded.

"Huh?" How had she known?

"You went to see Professor Snape today, didn't you? And it wasn't really about Remedial Potions, was it?" Her expression was stern.

Summer squirmed. Now that it was the moment of truth, she found it hard to meet Hermione's eyes. All her doubts came rushing, threatening to overwhelm her. "You're right," she admitted. "But that's not the whole story." She paused and took a deep breath. "Hermione, I'm psychic."

A minute passed.

"I beg your pardon?" Hermione said very quietly.

"I'm --"

"Yes, I heard you, but _what_?" Bafflement was written all over her face.

"Er…"

"Don't be ridiculous, that's all hogwash."

"No, I really --"

"I didn't think you would believe all that junk that Trelawney teaches," Hermione continued ranting. Summer could tell that she was unwilling to believe it. But something told her that Hermione was also a bit scared that it might be true.

"Hermione, please, just listen?"

Hermione gave her a wary look, as though she suspected that any moment Summer would sprout leaves and also claim to be a tree. Hesitantly, she nodded.

"At first I thought it was just coincidental," Summer began vaguely. "But then it adds up, you know? How many times can it just be a coincidence that I can tell what someone else is thinking about or how they feel? How many times can it be a coincidence that what I'm studying in Divination shows up in real life?" She picked at the comforter to avoid Hermione's eyes.

Hermione looked like she wanted to interrupt, but she kept her mouth closed.

"So I started to do some reading."

Hermione visibly relaxed. Summer can't have really gone insane if she had researched this issue. Reading was always a good sign.

"There are signs to look for, and tests that you can do, to see if you really are… psychic. Anyway, I thought most of them were ridiculous. Things like guessing what card would be next out of a deck, or the next person to walk into the room, or certain lines on your palm. It all seemed like such flimsy, inaccurate stuff."

"Well, good, I'm glad that you've come to your senses," Hermione cut in, unable to keep quiet anymore.

"But then I found out about a potion." Summer looked up to see that Hermione's protestations had died off. You can't argue with Potions, either. They were too precise, as both girls knew from Snape's many lectures. As long as it was properly brewed, a potion would do what it was meant for. "The basic idea of the potion is that you make a sort of sleeping-hallucinogenic hybrid potion. You take it before you sleep, and then the next day, if what you dreamt comes true, then that's it. You know for sure."

"Have you brewed it yet?"

Summer sighed and glanced around the room. Lavender and Parvati were brushing out their hair and chattering, completely oblivious to the other two girls.

"Yeah, I have. That's why I met with Professor Snape," she admitted.

"Oh," replied Hermione. Now at least some pieces were starting to fit together. "And?"

"Like I said, I'm psychic," Summer said with a shrug and started petting Crookshanks, who had just jumped onto the bed. The cat, too, seemed blissfully ignorant of the larger things in life.

"But how do you know? If you've only just brewed it today, you can't have dreamt yet."

"Yeah, except… except I did it a while ago. I've already taken it," said Summer, feeling guilty about keeping this from Hermione. She could practically feel her cousin bristle at this news.

"Were you actually doing Remedial Potions today?" The question was asked in a biting tone.

"No… Professor Snape wanted to discuss the results." She hung her head in her hands. "I told him." Summer imagined that if she were to glance at Hermione, she would see incredulity and perhaps a tinge of anger. That was why she blatanly refused to look up, and settled for staring down at Crookshanks' ginger fur.

It took a moment for Hermione to put two and two together. Summer was psychic, and she had told Snape. Snape worked for Voldemort, and (as Hermione suddenly remembered the _Daily Prophet_ snippet) Voldemort was amassing diviners.

"You told him? Summer, you know that if Dumbledore trusts him, Professor Snape can't be that bad, but… I mean, he's still a Death Eater," she said gently, with the same tone of voice that you would use to tell a child that Santa Claus isn't real.

"I know," Summer started. She didn't know what was harder to admit: her so-called talent, or this next bit. "But I trust him." She shrugged.

Hermione thought for another moment while choosing to ignore Summer's last statement. "And that ad in the paper… you already knew?"

"Not really, but then when I saw that… it made much more sense."

"I don't think I want to hear any more."

Summer knew it was coming, but it still hurt when her cousin turned her away like that. "I understand," she mumbled and got up. "Could you just… I mean, it's not really something that I want everyone to know…"

"Of course, I won't tell."

"Not even Harry and Ron?"

Hermione bit her lip thoughtfully. "I ought to be perfectly honest… I will tell them, but not yet. I just need to think about it a bit first."

That night Summer had difficulty sleeping. She knew she was probably safe at Hogwarts, but she felt scared and helpless for all the other seers across Britain that were being captured by Voldemort. She thought about the person whose eyes she saw through at night. Was he a wizard? Or was he just some poor, unfortunately gifted boy? In the end, she forced herself to relax and close her eyes. All she could really do was make use of what she had and try to gain some advantage from it. And if all she had was dreams, so be it.


	20. Revelation, Part Two

A/N: It's a bit short, but that's because originally it had been crammed into the end of the previous chapter. I split it up and then did some revision. (I may be slower with the next chapter, since I've decided that Chapters 1 through 3 seriously need a rewrite)

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Twenty – Revelation, Part Two**

Summer huffed, turned over, and punched her pillow to try to fluff it up. She couldn't sleep, but she desperately needed to. For the first two weeks of her I'm-going-to-beat-Voldemort-at-his-own-game plan, she had more or less succeeded in dreaming of the dungeon every night. And she was finally getting the hang of directing the wild, double-vision of the Seer towards the parchment. She had even caught snippets of words. So far, she had "the", "sum", "-ster", and a bit of something that sounded like a description of a plant. The down-side to interpreting the writing was that, since it was written by a drugged diviner, you couldn't make any sense of half of it because it was just rubbish.

It was kind of perverse that she looked forward to dreaming, now, and to those familiar slick stones and heavy air. It kept her informed, but at what price? She could tell that the Seer was getting weaker, and knew that if she didn't decipher the rest of the prophecy soon, they would all be out of luck. There was no way of knowing if Summer would be able to establish the same sort of connection with a different diviner.

A frightening thought occurred to her. She knew that Voldemort already had a large supply of these so-called oracles. And at least one was currently being used, the boy that Summer dreamt through. But what if Voldemort was not satisfied with just one at a time? What if he was drugging all of them, hoping to get some prophecy sooner?

Summer shuddered. Bad enough that one person had to go through that nauseating experience. She forced herself not to think of the others. She turned onto her other side, punched her pillow again, and went to sleep.

* * *

She woke up the next morning and immediately knew that something had changed. It just _felt_ different. It gnawed on her mind like a loose thread you can't help but pull, even though everything will unravel. She was jumpier than usual, impatient, and distracted. When they were practicing during Charms, Summer snapped at Neville for accidentally setting her textbook on fire. Hermione had to come to the poor boy's rescue, explaining Summer's frustration as pre-exam stress.

Her cousin, thankfully, seemed to have come to a wary acceptance of Summer's "condition," as she liked to call it, and neither Ron nor Harry were staring at her, so Summer guessed that Hermione hadn't told them yet.

Some days later, Summer and Draco had the misfortune of bumping into one another in an otherwise empty corridor. By this point, Summer doubted her nerves could be strung any tighter. The dreams had changed, disturbingly so, and she was on her way to the library to see what it could mean. Even though she was gradually getting used to her nighttime visions, it was thoroughly annoying that she couldn't ever just rest. And when he, the Seer, was drugged, it took so much of her energy to focus on the writing. Summer's mood, when lacking sleep, generally amounted to a constant short temper, fuelled by the fact that being psychic was not nearly as fun as it should be.

As for Malfoy, his anger practically radiated from him. Summer could tell once she got close enough to him that he was furious, but that was nothing new, and so at first Summer just intended to continue along her way.

He had other plans.

"Granger," he said. His jaw was clenched in such a way that suggested it took a lot of effort to talk to her without yelling.

"Not now, Malfoy. I need to go to the library."

"How typical. But it can wait."

Summer, who had already moved past him, turned back in anger. "I don't see why you think your business is any more important than mine. I'm going to the library regardless. Deal with it, Malfoy."

Instead of replying, he simply seized her arm and dragged her into an empty classroom.

"Let go of me!" Summer struggled against him and finally managed to wrench her arm free once he had successfully locked the door.

"Who are you?" Draco demanded angrily, for the second time since she had come to Hogwarts.

She raised her chin defiantly. "If I tell you, will you run off to tell your father?" She could tell by his narrowed eyes that he understood her meaning. Whatever Lucius Malfoy knew would soon also be known by the Dark Lord. He frowned in annoyance.

"I'll make you a deal," he said finally. "One of your secrets for one of mine. We tell no one."

"Why does that seem too easy, and far too nice on your part?"

He smirked. "Of course, we can use that knowledge to our full advantage, as long as we don't actually reveal the secret to anyone."

"I figured as much, coming from you," she replied. It was very Slytherin of him, but also surprisingly honest for him to admit that he would try to manipulate the situation. Summer thought about it quickly. He was a Malfoy, had friends in high places (dark places, yes, but definitely high), and was a more experienced wizard. But, she mused, she already had one of his secrets. At most, only four or five people knew that he was an Animagus, and Summer was among them. She made up her mind.

"And we pick what we want to know?" She had to double-check, or else Malfoy would just tell her that he was an Animagus, and then she would be losing out.

"Of course," he said, aiming for nonchalance but it was obvious that she had just foiled a bit of his plan.

"How do I know I can trust you?" she asked.

"You don't," replied Draco. "But you have my word as a Malfoy." He extended his hand.

"That's not saying much," she scoffed, but grasped his hand anyway. The handshake was firm but they both let go rather quickly. "You first."

"Tell me who you are," he ordered.

She didn't like his tone (_one day_, she told herself, _I'll have to make a note of humbling this pompous prick._), but knew that she had just made a deal and would have to keep her end of the bargain.

"I'm Summer Granger, recently-discovered muggle-born witch extraordinaire. Cousin to Hermione Granger. Lover of libraries, hater of idiots. Member of the human species," she added sarcastically, and then, just for good measure, "and psychic. At your service." She gave a little mock bow.

"I knew it."

Summer had expected a lot of things from Malfoy: rage, irrationality, surprise, disbelief, and perhaps even blackmail of some sort. Cold, calculating and assertive was definitely not on her list.

"You did, did you? And just how did you know?" She crossed her arms and leaned against a desk. Her big revelation had not been received with as much shock as she had hoped. This was essentially her biggest secret, one that could potentially prove fatal or very useful in the current situation, and it was being received without any fanfare. It was almost suspicious that he knew, but probably he had only guessed at something similar. Either way, Summer wasn't happy.

"Is that the secret you want from me?"

"No… not quite…" she paused and thought. It did sound as though he had some information she wanted, but there was more to it. How could she compress the Felix Felicis, the poisoned knife, the anger, and his suspicions about her, all into one question?

"Take your time," he said with forced good grace. "While you think about it, why don't you tell me more about your… talent?"

"Keep dreaming, Malfoy," she snorted. "You had your one question, and that's all you'll be getting out of me now. And anyway," she continued, "I've got my question."

He raised an eyebrow expectantly.

"Why did your father send the poisoned dagger?" she asked slowly, gauging his reaction. Much better, she thought smugly.

Admitting her psychic ability hadn't caused Draco to so much as bat an eyelash. This seemingly random question had his mouth flopping open like a goldfish, before he recovered and put on a charade of false cool.

"He didn't send me a poisoned dagger," he replied smoothly. The slight turn-of-phrase did not go unnoticed.

"I know," she said with a keen glint in her eye. "I didn't ask why he sent it to _you_. I asked why it was sent at all."

Malfoy briefly did his fish impression again and Summer smirked. It wasn't a question good enough to get her all the information she wanted, but it was a good start. It had been on her mind anyway, especially since she had gotten in the dagger's warpath, and she was excited at the prospect of finding out a nice, big, fat, juicy secret. Any insight that was at least easily understood (not foggy and woozy like the dreams) would feel like a gift.

Draco looked, for a moment, like he might run. But he was compelled to stay: he had already given his word. Even if Summer didn't grasp the whole meaning of it, his word meant something. He was a Malfoy, and more than that, a Pureblood. These sorts of things were very carefully kept traditions.

"He was disappointed," he said reluctantly, and tried to leave it at that. Unfortunately, when a wizard gives his word in such a solemn way, magic tends to get involved and force the oath to be carried out. With an expression of extreme distaste, he continued. "The information was not enough, and he thought that a bit of… danger… might be useful in revealing --" he gritted his teeth, but the words came anyway "—the truth about you."

Summer's mind was reeling, as she tried not to let any surprise show on her face. The dagger must have been meant for _her_. Malfoy had said it was because of not enough information… could it be that letter he had sent, so long ago, telling his father and Voldemort about Summer? If that was true, and it sounded like it could be, then Voldemort must surely know about Summer and expect to gain something because of her. But how did he know? What did he know? Did he know that she was psychic, and was dreaming through the Seer? Did he intend for her to see the prophecy, or was he still unaware?

"Any risk to me was apparently worth it," Draco muttered.

_Ah, that's right_, thought Summer. The dagger had never been delivered to her, as planned. It had gone on a wild rampage, and Draco had gotten tangled up in this mess and suffered all the more for it.

"So that's why you wanted to know about me?" Summer asked. "To find out what was so important, and why so much effort was spent on …" she gestured vaguely, encompassing the whole situation.

His posture stiffened again and Summer felt a wall of cold malice from him.

"To find out why I had to suffer for you. What on earth they saw in you, I have no idea," he spat.

"I'm sorry, Draco," she said softly. "If I had known--"

"You would have somehow saved the day?" His tone was hostile and disdainful. "Bloody interfering Gryffindors. Your bravery is over-rated."

"But I'm not…," she trailed off, knowing the awkwardness that would be brought up if she finished that sentence. "Anyway… I don't mean to brag, but I kind of did. The knife could have done a lot more damage, you know," she bristled angrily.

Once again, Malfoy seemed to deflate a little. It couldn't be ignored that without her help, Madam Pomfrey would have had a much harder time of healing him, and he would certainly have much more than a scar as a souvenir of the attack. This time, the silent pause in conversation did not feel so angry, tense, or conniving. It was a bitterly-accepted impasse with an air of finality. They drifted towards the door of the classroom.

"Are you going to tell them that I'm psychic?" Summer asked, hesitating in the doorway.

"Why would they care?"

That was as good as 'no.' Although, they would care, wouldn't they? If Voldemort had a supply of seers, why wouldn't he want another one, especially so close to Harry Potter? Malfoy senior and the Dark Lord would definitely care. If Draco didn't say anything, maybe this twisted situation could still be used to her advantage.

"Wait, Malfoy," she said, grabbing his arm before he could leave. It was his left arm and for a split second she wondered if he ever rolled up his sleeves: was the skin clear, or was there a Dark Mark?

"Are you a Death Eater?" she blurted.

"Now, now, Granger. Just how many of your secrets are you willing to share?" he asked in response, Malfoy's face a perfect blank mask. She acceded to the point and they parted ways without any more words.

Armed with a renewed sense of purpose, Summer resolutely continued her walk to the library. Now that she knew the reason behind the dagger, it was easy enough to piece the rest of the puzzle together. Lucius Malfoy had first inquired about Summer a few weeks before the holidays, and at the same time, Summer noticed that Draco was sneaking off to the Moving Room on the sixth floor. He must have been trying to prove himself somehow to his father by learning to be an animagus. He must have been getting more frustrated as Christmas came closer, both because of his unsuccessful attempts at human-animal transfiguration and because of his father's displeasure with the description of Summer. Which must have meant that Voldemort had been interested in her before she began having dreams. But when? How did he know?

The red flash in Harry's eyes from long ago surfaced in her memories. Of course. The Boy Who Lived was essentially a channel for the Dark Lord Who Tried To Kill Him, in the same way that the Seer was a channel for Summer. Voldemort had tried to take possession of Harry's mind completely, once, but failed because of Harry's strong will. Summer wondered: would she be able to bend the mind of the Seer in the same way? She shivered at the idea of such manipulation, but a small, Slytherin-sounding voice in her mind told her that it would get her closer to her goal. She might be able to see the parchment and prophecy more clearly. In fact, the combined minds of two prophesiers might yield better results than just one. Perhaps the Seer would accept her presence in his mind. Surely he had already noticed. It was, at best, a slim chance, but at the very least it was a plan.

Besides that, Summer needed to figure out how to direct the dreams, and quickly. Simply _thinking_ about it wasn't working anymore. She swept into the library with determination, heading straight for the Restricted Section. Madam Pince only glanced briefly but returned to her work when she saw it was Summer. Professor Snape didn't know the full extent of the favor he did her when he passed on the key to the Restricted Section. And with any luck, Summer thought wryly, he would yet be of service.

* * *

"I'm telling you, it's just not right." Harry slammed _Advanced Transfiguration_ closed, abandoning all pretense of doing work.

"Honestly, Harry, I don't understand," Hermione huffed impatiently. "For the first time in a long time, you don't feel a suspiciously Dark and dangerous presence in your mind, and you _worry_ about it? Are you too afraid to be safe, for once?"

"But we aren't doing anything! There's probably tons of plans and things already made out there, from the Order and the Death Eaters, and we're stuck here. Studying." He scoffed and glared angrily at the book. Hermione immediately stiffened and Ron gave Harry a fleeting look of warning.

"What you learn today is the foundation of tomorrow," Hermione primly replied, making a great show of turning her attention back to her work. "It can't hurt to be well-informed."

Ron, who had so far been turning his head like at a tennis match, finally settled on looking at Harry.

"What about what Summer said?"

"About what?" He still looked cross, but at least wasn't gnawing his teeth.

"That article in the _Prophet_ about the diviners and You-Know-Who. Maybe she was right," Ron suggested.

"Not that again, Ron. What would he be doing with a bunch of loonies looking at tea leaves all day?"

The red-head squirmed uncomfortably. "Divination is pretty serious, actually, if you get real talented people. Not like Trelawney. You-Know-Who was obsessed with the prophecy last year. Maybe he's still on about it, or trying to get a new one."

Harry mulled it over. Ron, for once, had made a reasonable suggestion. "But that still doesn't explain why he needs a whole lot of them, does it? You just need one to make a prophecy. Why collect an army of them from all over Britain?"

In the same instant, all three Gryffindors looked into space; even Hermione was pulled from her books. They imagined an army of bejeweled, bespectacled, shawl-and-gossamer-wearing Trelawneys and shuddered in mutual fear. The thought of more than one Divination Professor descending upon you with those huge, bug-like eyes and strong scent of sherry, spouting predictions of death was enough to make anyone cringe in fear.

"Dunno, but that would be scary," said Ron, wrinkling his nose. "Why don't you ask Summer? It was her idea."

The boys directed their gazes in unison at Hermione.

"What?" she asked, innocently enough, but for the uncomfortable heat that was beginning to crawl up her neck.

"You ask her. She's your cousin," Harry explained.

"B-but I…"

"You know something, don't you?" he demanded, leaning forward eagerly.

"Not precisely." Her blush did not infuse that statement with any confidence whatsoever.

"Well?"

"Er… maybe it's time we all had a proper chat… perhaps with the Headmaster too," she finally admitted.

Again, the boys exchanged glances. If Dumbledore would be getting involved, it couldn't mean anything good. But, with a slight gleam in their eyes, they knew the situation would be getting much more interesting.


	21. The Dream

**Almost A Dream Come True**

**Chapter Twenty-One: The Dream**

"Summer?"

Her head whipped around. "What?" she snapped. She hadn't slept well last night, nor the night before then, nor any night in the past several long weeks. Her nerves were shot.

"Where are you going?" Hermione was already awake and sitting up in bed, holding a forgotten textbook in her lap. It was a quarter to nine on Saturday morning. Only two weeks since Summer had told her cousin and her professor: neither had mentioned it since then. And no cursed objects had arrived in her mail yet, either, so she presumed Malfoy had kept quiet. But she knew better than to give him the benefit of the doubt: it had, after all, only been three days since they had exchanged secrets.

"Potions," she replied tersely, stuffing some notes into a bag and sweeping out of the dormitory. Summer didn't mean to be curt with her cousin, but sometimes Hermione's overwhelming urge to know everything at once was annoying. She didn't have time for idle chatter. Summer had a Plan and it was well past time to enact it.

On the way to the dungeons, she performed what had become a sort of Saturday-morning ritual. She usually left the dorm before any of the other girls woke up (today with Hermione being an exception). Descending through the castle, she would make a detour past the Moving Room and peek in, out of curiosity, concern, and self-preservation. Merlin only knew what Malfoy might be getting up to. In the Great Hall, she would hurriedly drain a cup of tea (by pouring its contents into other cups) and examine the tea leaves. Perhaps it was a bit superstitious, but Summer needed all the help she could get, and had begun checking leaves on a daily basis. So far, no definite results, but there were vague warnings and a sense of urgency. She would never eat in the Hall on Saturdays; instead Summer visited the kitchens and stole (or rather, was forced to take) hot, fresh baked goods from Hoppit, Tweezle, or Dobby. And then it was the home stretch: stuffing the food quickly in her mouth, straightening her robes, and trying to look somewhat awake so that when she knocked, it would be precisely 9 o'clock.

Professor Snape had been unusually kind lately: he had simply presented her with a list of trickier, more fickle potions that she should be capable of brewing, and had let her take her pick. Each week, she worked through another potion or two. She had already done one for Hagrid to prepare the pumpkin patch for the coming spring thaw, and a potion with a scourgify-effect for Filch.

Today, without precisely knowing why, she had chosen the blood-replenishing one, and brewed up a huge cauldron-full.

"There," Summer said, with great satisfaction several long hours later, at last finishing the complex blood-replenishing potion. She began bottling it, and set one small vial on the potion master's desk for his approval, then got to work on her own concoction in a much smaller cauldron. They worked in silence for another half hour.

"Incorrect," he sneered, after taking a moment away from marking essays to conduct an analysis. Underneath his nastiness, though, Summer detected a hint of surprise.

"Is it? What's wrong?" she asked, momentarily pausing in her work. She made a mental note to add more poppy root to her inky blue mix.

"You have substituted the lavender with feverfew," he said with an icy tone.

"Oh, that."

"If you continue to treat the delicate subject of Potions with such callousness, you will undoubtedly find yourself without eyebrows very soon. Clearly I had overestimated you, if you are so dense as to forget that feverfew yields explosive results when mixed with dragon's blood."

Summer cast an observant eye around her bench. It was suddenly, painfully, obvious that no explosion had taken place and everything was tidy, in its place. "That's why I added three extra flutterbies. They have a calming effect that counterbalances it."

She calmly returned to her own work, adding the poppy and a pinch of Arabian sand. Though Snape's face remained a stony mask, it was funny to see the mix of disappointment in being wrong and the slight twinge of pride in his student. Although, at this point, Summer wondered if she _saw_ those emotions or _felt_ them.

In the end, he grudgingly tested the potion on a mouse and had to admit that it worked as well as, if not better than, the original formula.

"What was your reasoning behind the substitution?"

"If it's going to be used in the Hospital Wing, and I'm assuming that it will, then it won't interact well with Madam Pomfrey's other potions. From what Ron and Harry tell me, she gives liberal doses of Dreamless Sleep. That has enough lavender on its own. Too much lavender loses its effectiveness. And, it has marigold oil in it. That would suffuse the subtler properties of excessive lavender, so I switched it for feverfew because they balance one another better. Having never tasted it myself, I'm also under the impression that the taste of the frogspawn is disgusting. The flutterbies draw out unpleasant odors and tastes."

He raised an eyebrow at the impromptu lecture.

She half-shrugged. "I _am_ related to Hermione, after all," she said with a quirky grin. Summer began stirring her potion in a slow, reverse figure-eight pattern.

"Hmph," was the response.

There was a moment of silence as he watched Summer's potion turn into a fog-colored substance with a similar consistency. She bottled this, too, and waited for his comment. She was sure he would say _something_ if he had been paying any attention at all to the ingredients. Several were borrowed from sleeping draughts, some were also in the Intuition Infusion, and a very few came from inhibition and control potions. And then there were your standard questionable potions ingredients: wormwood, fairy blood, and splinters off a broken wand, all of which tended to be associated with Dark potions. Surveying the concoction, she was certain that he dearly wanted to say something but was restraining himself.

"Perhaps there is something I should know," he said in a steely tone.

Summer felt guilt creeping up on her. She had promised him, after all, to speak up if anything had changed.

And it had changed. The Seer was dying. She was sure of it. Weaker every night, with less words coming although the prophecy seemed to be on the brink. Summer had researched her options, and, considering the need to act quickly, had decided on this. She wasn't one to go jumping into such hazardous messes without doing her homework on it first. So if Snape questioned her, she wasn't likely to take to it very well. As it was, her temper flared.

"I am a student, a witch, a psychic, and yet I'm nearly completely in the dark. You are on both sides of this, _sir_," she hissed, "and are much better informed than I. So excuse me if this is harsh, but if I'm going to be throwing myself in the line of fire, I'd damn well like to know _why_."

The air crackled with nervous energy, and Summer was very aware that she had definitely overstepped the professor-student line of respect.

"You have reason to believe that there will be a line of fire, Miss Granger?"

She grumbled. "Not yet." Her fingers tightened around the bottle with her potion.

"Very well," he replied. Professor Snape did not look pleased at all. "Do try not to get yourself killed," he added, flicking his gaze briefly at her potion. "I imagine it would be difficult to explain the mess to the Headmaster."

She supposed that was his way of expressing concern. Or maybe he really was that squeamish about the blood. She replied with a curt nod, pocketed her potion and left the dungeons. Once she had reached the first windows, she was shocked to see how dark it was outside: again, an entire day had been spent in a dank, gloomy dungeon with an anti-social professor, and for Summer the time had flown by. A small voice in the back of her mind whispered that maybe she really _was_ suited to Slytherin. She ignored the thought, but only half-heartedly. Slytherin was starting to grow on her a little bit.

They ambushed her as she entered the Great Hall for dinner. Harry, flanked by an apologetic Hermione and a supportive Ron, marched up to her.

"We need to talk to you about--" he began.

"Not today," Summer cut in. "And not here." She glanced around at the students milling about before dinner and couldn't believe that Harry had chosen such a public place for what she assumed to be a conversation requiring some confidentiality.

"But it's--"

"Important. I know." Summer met Hermione's gaze for a moment. The slight widening of the other girl's eyes confirmed Summer's suspicion: Hermione had told the boys, and if she hadn't, then she was about to. Summer directed her next comment to her cousin. "I can't talk about it today," she said again, the small weight of the bottle in her pocket bumping as they began walking in to dinner. "Tomorrow... tomorrow I should know... well, tomorrow, in any case."

Once again, a silent exchange passed between the two Grangers and they nodded a mutual vague understanding.

"D'you ever get the feeling you don't know what's going on with girls?" Ron muttered to Harry.

Harry laughed and the tension immediately dissipated. "All the time, Ron."

She was left in peace for the rest of the day, and instead they submitted to Hermione's nagging about upcoming exams. It was the beginning of March, which was, according to Hermione, a disastrously late time to begin preparing for exams. As they sat in front of the fire in the common room, surrounded by books, Hermione shot Summer several worried glances. And as the girls were getting into bed, again it looked as though her cousin was about to speak up. In the end, Hermione still hadn't said anything by the time Summer pulled the curtains closed around her bed and cast a silencing charm.

She tucked her wand under her pillow in easy reach and produced the small bottle of foggy potion. Gazing at the swirling mixture that was caught halfway between liquid and fog, Summer shivered again as her mind catalogued the ingredients. Wormwood for inducing prophetic visions. Splinters of a broken wand for submission of others to the drinker's will. Fairy's blood for control.

A wave of nausea and disgust swept over her at the thought of what she was about to do. At the same time, Summer also had a distressing feeling that if she didn't find out precisely what was going on with the Dark side, then they, all of them at Hogwarts, would be at a serious disadvantage.

She took a deep breath. "Bottoms up," she muttered, uncapped the bottle, and drained it in one go. Within seconds, she was asleep, the bottle rolling from her limp fingers.

The dream began as always. First, there was a sensation of dizziness and complete blindness. Slowly, she could discern the crooked lines of stone, the flicker of greasy candles, and eventually the moss on the dungeon walls. Everything was spinning, and the Seer was having trouble holding his head up. There was a rasping noise. _The quill_, was her first thought. But it was accompanied by a different sort of rasp. The Seer's breath was ragged, heavy, strained. Summer could feel the effects of the wormwood as she, too, back in Hogwarts, began having difficulty breathing. It was the thick smoke, and the heady incense. As the subtleties of the potion kicked in, Summer tried to focus her blurry mind on the writing.

There was a small whimper. The Seer was making a feeble attempt at resisting Summer's control. The eyes were slow and the mind was hesitant to distinguish the writing on the parchment. Bizarrely, it was written in rhyme.

_Folly it may be, but persistence you will see.  
__Seek your allies and mark the day:  
__meet prophet's match, begin your stay.  
__Stand, Dark, when the Easter Sun rises.  
__Divided will fall: take poisoned prizes._

The moment that the quill dropped from his blood-stained fingers, the quill glowed a victorious blue. It must have been a signal to the Seer's caretakers. Indeed, there was a scuttling at the door as someone rushed off.

Desperation welled up inside of her. Or was it the Seer's emotion? Fear, too, and bone-deep weariness. Startled, Summer realized that those were all the Seer's emotions, the product of his incoherent thoughts. There was also a hint of... Pleading? She sought to identify the emotion.

Footsteps echoed and approached the heavy wooden door of the cell. Someone was coming. Summer raised her head, bending the Seer's body to her will. For his part, he seemed almost relieved that she was steering him.

The door creaked open. The Seer's breathing, already laboured, now stopped entirely. His heart pounded loudly in her ears, and his feeling of sheer terror encompassed everything.

Summer was staring into the blood-red, snake-like eyes of the Dark Lord.

He met her eyes only for a moment and then, full of purpose, snatched up the parchment greedily. His maniacal joy twisted that deformed face into a hideous expression.

In that terrifying moment when the Seer and the Dark Lord matched gazes, Summer was suddenly aware of two things. The first: her own terror was mounting exponentially. The second: the Seer's will gave out at that precise moment. A rush of emotion came at her, mingling with his already overwhelming fear. Thankful and desperate, he permeated her consciousness with a desire to flee, and then that presence receded into a dark corner to recover and pray for the best. The potion's ingredients, combined with the Seer's willing abandon, thrust Summer forcefully into his body. Her senses exploded as her mind departed fully from the realm of Hogwarts and the rational world.

The door was open. Voldemort had only just seized the paper. He must not have caught the subtle shift, that indescribable _something_ in the eyes, which happened when the Seer's psyche collapsed. She had a split-second opportunity.

Fueled by the terror of two diviner's, and amplified by their connection, Summer sprinted into the dim hall and was dodging around corners before the Dark Lord's first curse hit the wall over her ear. (_Her ear? Or the Seer's?_ There was no time for such distinctions.) Adrenaline surged through her blood. She could still feel the shadow of the boy's soul and his plea to escape this hell-hole.

A Death-Eater appeared at the next turn. Voldemort must have called his reinforcements.

Summer dove to the ground and the immobilizing spell narrowly missed her. From a side door, a man with a pale, pinched face and buggy eyes jumped out. _Wormtail_, supplied the boy's mind. For one awful moment, Wormtail grabbed at her and caught the boy's ankle. But the other Death Eater shot a stream of fire at her from his wand, and Wormtail lost his grip. She scuttled away and rushed forward again.

The poor Seer's limbs were shaking. Summer could barely breathe and wondered if the spell that had just hit her somehow turned her lungs into fire as well. But still determined to live, she careened forward, taking as many turns as possible in an attempt to get more than a few inches ahead of her captors. The boy didn't have a wand, of course. The only chance to escape was now, before more of Voldemort's servants had a chance to respond to the summons.

It took her a moment before she realized that there were tears streaming down the boy's face. Again, she couldn't tell if it was her emotion or his that was causing it. She wagered it was both. Her sense of smell, at least, was unimpaired. Through their joint effort, she took the turns for halls with fresher air. The withdrawn presence of the Seer seemed to be pointing silently_. That way. Up. Out. That way__._

She turned left, into a passage that seemed to incline and lead out of the ground. In another few seconds, she would be out of the dungeons, and could find a way out of this stronghold.

But the passage was straight, without any alcoves or doors until the very end, and Summer made for a very good target. She couldn't tell who was casting which spells, because both Death Eaters (or maybe now there were more than just two? The barrage of spells made it seem so) were now using non-verbal magic. She felt a prickling pain and her left arm fell limp at her side. Another spell hit her knees, causing her to stumble and have the breath knocked out of her. She kept running, and turned right at the end of the corridor.

In this more populated area, the Death Eaters behind her could shout warnings to those ahead. Doors were opening on either side, surely about to reveal more Dark wizards with wands held ready.

Desperation and despair filled her and the Seer, and she sprinted, fairly flying down the hall. This was the last burst of energy, she knew. Summer directed herself to the first set of upward stairs (illogical, perhaps, but once again, it seemed to be the direction of the Seer's subconscious) and took the stairs three at a time.

There was a commotion behind her, and again another hand tried to grab her but it slid off without any true contact. More Death Eaters were chasing her, she thought she could hear them pounding up the stairs, but it might only have been her heart.

The flight of steps had a landing halfway up, before they turned to wind up to the second floor. A burst of hope filled her. Seven more stairs. There was a window of thick glass. Four stairs. But her momentum might be enough to shatter it. She ignored the drop that would certainly follow. Almost at the landing now, a badly aimed hex shattered the glass, sparing her some difficulty.

Summer stumbled onto the landing, muscles protesting the work after so much inaction. Two more steps and she could hurl herself out of the window. Her mind registered the sound of waves crashing on cliffs. Perhaps, she thought grimly, she would be hurling herself and the Seer out to their deaths. Still, it was better than being the puppet of the Dark Lord.

"_Sectumsempra!_"

A Death Eater's final attempt to stop the Seer from escaping. The voice was cruel, cold, unfeeling, but with a timbre that seemed almost familiar.

This curse did not fly harmlessly over her head. It did not shatter another pane of glass, nor blast a section of wall into pieces. The Death Eater had aimed well.

Summer gasped at the sharp stinging pain that sprung viciously upon her back. It was a long, deep, burning slash stretching from her right shoulder downwards. Her knees buckled and she fell through the window, the sharp edges of the glass tearing at her skin.

Cool, blissful relief, even as the last spells of the Death Eaters shot after her into the darkness of night. The wind off the sea caressed her skin. The Seer's body fell through the air, rushing to meet the sharp cliffs and deadly ocean. With some last reserve of strength, drawn from the depths of despair, the Seer turned his body in midair, as though to look back at his prison. Summer felt a tight compression in her chest (_his chest?_) and darkness closing in on the edges of her vision. Before she could feel the body slam against cold stone or brutal wave, the Seer lost consciousness and she was forced from the body. She hoped, with her last coherent thought, that one of them would survive.

Someone would need to warn Dumbledore.

-

Severus Snape stopped at the door of his chambers, fingers still on the clasp of his traveling cloak. The stinging pain on his left arm abruptly faded. The summons of the Dark Lord had woken him in the middle of the night, forcing him to get up. As suddenly and inexplicably as it had come, the pain in his Dark Mark receded, which usually didn't happen until the Death Eater had appeared before the Dark Lord; or until the summons was recalled, with no necessity for a meeting. That appeared to be the case now.

There was no point in returning to sleep. It was already past four. Snape left his rooms to walk the halls of the castle. This early in the morning, without the screaming idiocy of children, it was almost pleasant. He had made it as far as the open courtyard just above the dungeons when the albatross-shaped Patronus landed in front of him.

"Severus, I'm sorry to wake you. There has been an incident. The Hospital Wing, if you please," said the voice of Albus Dumbledore.

Obediently, the professor headed for the Hospital Wing, absent-mindedly rubbing his left arm as he did so. He was filled with a strange, discomforting feeling. Surely, this was no coincidence.

-

Hermione woke suddenly, sitting up in her bed and listening again for the noise that had roused her from sleep.

There it was. A sort of whimpering, and shuddery breathing. She pulled the curtains away from her bed. The noise was coming from the bed to her left, that of her cousin.

More fully awake now, Hermione clambered out of her bed and tugged aside the curtains of Summer's bed. The girl was twisted in her sheets, limbs making odd jerky movements, face contorted with concentration. Her skin was clammy and pale. The edge of her wand was poking out from underneath a pillow, and a bottle lay forgotten beside it.

Swallowing nervously, Hermione remembered Summer saying that she would know something more the next day. What had the foolish girl done? It looked as though she had taken a potion… but for what? And where had the potion come from? Summer did spend a lot of time in the dungeons, but was it her own brewing (and how reliable was her potion-making?)? Or did it come from Professor Snape, in which case, was there a reason to worry? Harry's constant doubts about the Potions Master came to mind.

Hermione did not have the luxury of examining these thoughts. Her cousin was issuing more frantic sounds now, and her breath was coming in short, shallow spurts.

"Summer?" Hermione said tentatively. She reached out a hand to touch the other girl's arm. _Merlin, she's freezing_. She shook Summer's arm a little. "Summer, wake up." No reaction. Hermione glanced around to see if her other roommates had been woken, but both Lavender and Parvati were soundly sleeping. She looked back down at her cousin and her fingers tightened automatically around Summer's hand. Whatever was happening to her, it certainly did not look like sweet dreams. Hermione could only hope that the nightmare would finish soon.

The other Granger let out a strangled cry, her back tersely arching, and then her body gave a final, violent jolt, nearly causing her to fall out onto the floor. Luckily, Hermione managed to grab the girl's shoulders and keep her semi-reclined.

"Summer?" she asked again, more urgently this time. Her hands felt something wet and, in the near darkness of the dorm, she saw that they came away dark and shiny from the shoulders of Summer's nightshirt. She grabbed her wand.

"_Ennervate_."

Summer's eyes fluttered unseeingly for a moment. Then her entire weight collapsed against Hermione. Cradling her, Hermione felt panic rising up in her when she realized that Summer's breathing was barely distinguishable. She strongly suspected the slick substance to be blood.

A lifetime of logic and years of harrowing experience with Harry and Ron had molded Hermione's ability to clamp down on panic until things were safe again. This instinct kicked in now and she levitated the body of her cousin, also grabbing the bottle discarded on the pillow. She moved silently through Gryffindor Tower, out into the halls, and to the Hospital Wing, all the while thinking of possible explanations.

Madam Pomfrey, though wearing a house coat and fuzzy slippers, appeared when Hermione burst in to the infirmary, calling for the nurse. Immediately, the mediwitch's wand was flicking. Lights came on, salves and bandages came flying out of drawers, coalescing on a table in neat order. Seeing the blood, she grew pale and, _swish_, started a fire in the fireplace.

"Headmaster, come quickly, please," Pomfrey said, after tossing a pinch of Floo powder into the flames. Only then did she turn to speak to Hermione. "What happened?"

"She—she was dreaming," Hermione explained lamely.

"Then how on earth did she come by that gash on her back?" the matron demanded. Now the two of them had maneuvered Summer's unconscious form onto a bed, lying her on her stomach so as to reach the wound. The blood was coming thick and fast, seeming to not have slowed at all since Hermione had first discovered it.

"I don't know." Hermione felt very strange, for once being unable to answer a question. The unreality of the entire situation made her think for a moment that maybe she was still asleep.

Madam Pomfrey made a long, complex wand motion over Summer's back, which removed the fabric around the wound and siphoned off some of the blood. With another couple of twirls in quick succession, the skin tried to pull itself together and a golden thread appeared, stitching. But the blood kept gushing out and dissolved the stitches almost as quickly as they had appeared.

"Oh dear," murmured Pomfrey, and with another swish of her wand, several mounds of gauze flew obligingly toward the patient. Two of the gauze pads, she handed to Hermione. "For now, all we can do is apply pressure."

"The muggle way?" Hermione asked, bewildered. As a muggle-born, it was rare for her to encounter bits of what she liked to think of as her "mother-culture" in the wizarding world.

"Not all their ideas are bad." The two women bent over the prone sleeper, palms flat and pressing the gauze on the wound. Blood still squished through the fabric, and Hermione spent a few excruciatingly long moments waiting for the bleeding to stop. It didn't happen, though, and soon she somehow had her cousin's blood all over her. Surely there couldn't be much left in her? Summer's already pale skin seemed to be white as the sheets she lay on. The panic that Hermione had been shoving down threatened to surface again.

"I do hope Albus thought of bringing Severus," Madam Pomfrey said absently, glancing furtively towards the doors of the Hospital Wing.

Hermione followed the nurse's sightline in shock. Professor Snape? Whatever for?

That moment, thankfully, the Headmaster himself swept in, looking not at all frazzled to be up at this hour. He was followed by a rather less put-together Professor McGonagall, who immediately entered into a dialogue of questions with Madam Pomfrey.

"What's happened?"

"Miss Granger has been injured, but I can't figure out how."

"Miss Granger?" McGonagall looked at Hermione, before settling on Summer, as though forgetting, like most people had, that there were two Miss Grangers. "Oh… yes. When? How did it happen? Was anyone there?"

"Where, in the dormitory?"

"Of course. Poppy, can't you do something about all that blood?"

"But how? Where's Severus?"

"Do you think he'll know what to do?" Minerva McGonagall fixed her steely gaze on the nurse.

"Who could better deal with Dark magic than he?"

"Dark magic?"

"I suspect."

"But how?"

As if she held all the answers to their questions, Hermione suddenly found herself pinned by the frantic attention of the two older women, and felt very childlike, in her blood-speckled nightgown, messy hair, and bare feet.

"Now now," Albus Dumbledore cut in, with his characteristic soothing tone. "Let us wait for Professor Snape to arrive so that we might have some answers, and spare Miss Granger multiple retellings of what promises to be a very difficult story."

"But…" began Hermione, a bit reluctant to speak up. "Can _she_ wait?"

Everyone turned to look at Summer.

"No need to worry," said Albus, for once forcing his good cheer, and clapping his hands together. "I'm sure he'll be in any mo…. Ah, Severus! How good of you to join us!" At that moment, Snape entered, looking like he would rather be anywhere else at 5 in the morning, preferably a bed, instead of assembling in the Hospital Wing for some godforsaken idiotic student. "Now," continued the headmaster, "we may begin."


End file.
